A Banner Year
by emptyonideas
Summary: Bruce was very happy avoiding people, thank you very much. But then she became his patient and he forgot all his intentions. Bruce/OC
1. Chapter 1

**The first step towards getting somewhere is to decide that you are not going to stay where you are.**

-John Pierpont Morgan

* * *

I didn't know what the hell I was doing in India, although I suppose if someone asked I would cite my recent desires to become a better person. That, and Dylan asked me to come, and Dylan never asked for anything unless he really needed it.

But perhaps I didn't think it through, or perhaps I didn't have a true vision of where I was going. Because suddenly, I was overwhelmed with sounds and sights that I wasn't sure I could get used to. Coupled with exhaustion and a slight bit of hunger, I wasn't feeling so good about my impulsive decision.

"I must really love you."

Dylan smiled and hiked my duffel bag up his arm. We were only cousins but he looked more like me than my brother had. India had made him much tanner, but his hair was the same dark brown and his eyes the same bright green.

"I'm only giving you an outlet to become a better person," Dylan laughed, sidestepping a child playing on the ground.

I contemplated this as I looked around at the cramped, dirty village. People were hanging from doorways and many of the children were staring at me with wide eyes. Dylan seemed to know a lot of people already, and nodded in greeting as we trekked through the town.

Despite my best efforts, my mind flew to vain things like showers and chocolate, and if I'd really see those things in the next few weeks. Dylan, taking my silence for something else, slung his free arm over my shoulder.

"I appreciate you coming. We need a lot of help at the orphanage. And I kind of missed you."

"I didn't have much keeping me at home," I said, nudging his shoulder. "Plus I'm a fantastic person."

"Of course," he said, shooting me a smile that I could tell was not real. "But you know…how are you doing?"

"I'm alright."

The answer had been my go-to lately, and in fact one of the reasons I'd been eager to get the hell out of New York. Too many people knew too many things there, and asked me too many questions that I did not want to hear.

"Aunt Hannah told me you dropped out of med school."

Coldness wrapped my bones and froze them, making me heavy and tired all at the same time. I had come to escape my mother's words, not be haunted by them.

"I did. And no, I don't want to talk about it."

I wasn't a talker. It didn't provide me catharsis. It just filled me with regret and anger until I was sure I was going to explode.

"Scar," Dylan said, rolling his eyes. "You talk tough, but I know you. You dropped your life to come here. Something must be wrong."

"I didn't drop much," I offered with a small smile. "It seems like the least I could do to help someone who really needs it. And I'm here for the children too."

Dylan rolled his eyes, but the smile was back on his face.

"There's my girl—"

"Don't 'my girl' so soon. You know it gives me the creeps, like you're my dad or something—"

"Scar?" he said, pushing a piece of hair from my face.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up," he laughed, flicking my nose. "Now hike up those pants, we've got another mile to go."

* * *

"Cover your whole hand," I told them, painting my own with bright blue as I spoke. "And press it hard against the stone."

The children watched in fascination as my handprint transferred to the stone steps, cracked but now a little brighter. "See? Easy."

The children eagerly began to grab the paint brush, some opting for the subtler dark green but most of them heading for bright yellow or red.

I knew this was an invitation for a mess, but it was a lot harder to entertain children without television or video games. Plus, now this place looked a little more like their own. They could know that even without a steady family, they belonged somewhere.

The first child, Madira, pressed her hand flush against the stone, pulling it away a moment later with a wide smile. She was the most confident of the group, always quick to join an activity with little trepidation. The others usually looked to her before they did something, even though she was one of the smallest there.

The other children scrambled to find their places after that, most of them already having paint dappling their arms. I smiled as a rainbow of handprints emerged on the stone.

"Good job everyone."

I watched them for a second longer, wiping sweat from my forehead with my non-painted hand. It was much hotter here than I'd anticipated, even though I was clad in a loose skirt and tank top.

"You guys keep going, I'll be right back."

I headed inside, toward the shade, looking in the mirror on the wall. It needed desperately to be cleaned, but even in the haze I could see my face was flushed and red.

I rubbed my eyes and took a few breaths.

Was it food poisoning? Heat stroke? I had been trying to forget what I'd learned in med school, but I silently went over the list of what they'd warned me about.

_Malaria. Typhoid. Dengue. Measles._

I'd gotten shots to cover most of those things. It was probably just something bad that I'd eaten...

"Scarlett! Did you leave the children unattended with paint?"

Dylan appeared a moment later, his hair and neck streaked with blue. I almost had time to laugh, but the nausea overwhelmed me immediately, heaving my stomach in a way I hadn't felt in a long time.

"Hold that thought."

* * *

Bruce never slept that well, so he was barely angry at being jostled at 7 o'clock in the morning by a man waving money in his face. He wasn't too concerned with worldly possessions these days, but he was interested by the man's perfect English, and found himself following him down the dirty road.

"She's had a fever and nausea since yesterday, and today she has a rash. She refused all help, naturally, but she couldn't even get up to help the children today."

Bruce listened somewhat more attentively than usual, because the man he spoke to was distinctly American. He would've been worried it was some sort of agent, but his green eyes were laced with worry that seemed too genuine to be faked.

"She's only been in India a week. I was thinking food poisoning, but I really have no idea."

"It's probably nothing serious," Bruce offered, the best condolence he could drudge up. He wasn't used to having such rambling conversations after being here so long.

"Doctor..." the man trailed, halting his steps. "She's my family. If something is really wrong, please help her."

Bruce almost shivered. He hadn't had someone to care about him in a long time, and it almost embarrassed him being close to someone so worried. Still, he tried his best to be polite.

"Of course." Bruce nodded his head and pushed up his glasses. "Let's go take a look."

* * *

_Saw the Avengers last week...couldn't help myself. It might have inaccuracies but it's just for fun so no worries. This chapter isn't my favorite, probably because beginnings are not my favorite. But it gets better, hopefully. :) Thoughts?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Desire is the starting point of all achievement, not a hope, not a wish, but a keen pulsating desire which transcends everything**.

-Napoleon Hill

* * *

I alternated between being unbearably hot and needing every blanket the house had. Dylan had checked in worriedly and even restricted the children from the closet sized space we shared as a room. I shooed him away every chance I got, but was really wishing I had taken some Dayquil along in my carry on.

"How are you feeling?"

Dylan peeked into my room, handing me a glass of water. I took a sip—it was warm and slightly foggy, so I put it down quickly and wrapped the patchwork quilt around me.

"About the same as five minutes ago," I answered, wishing I was in a room with a window so I could at least judge if it was day or night. "And the five minutes before that."

"And the five minutes before that?" he asked cheekily.

"Yes," I growled. "And the five minutes before that."

"You tire me," Dylan laughed, sitting on the rickety chair we had the room. I was afraid he'd fall through one day, but no such luck yet.

"_You_ tire _me," _I grumbled, turning on my side. I could feel my eyelids drop like weights were attached to them. I had probably slept more the last two days than I had in the last month.

"Do you feel nauseous?"

"Not really."

"You haven't eaten in a while."

"I'm not hungry."

I felt my awareness slowly slipping away, and Dylan must of noticed my even less attentive attitude.

"Get some sleep. If you still have a fever when you wake up, I'm calling the doctor."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not," I said, my voice sounding weaker as I was pulled into sleep.

"Yes I am."

I was too tired to answer.

* * *

Bruce was used to the cramped living spaces, but he climbed over children to reach the room that Dylan was walking toward. The place looked similar to his, but he noticed some of the walls were streaked with bright colored paint. Odd.

Dylan pointed to his left, through a doorway that had no actual door. Bruce peered in, seeing a girl in a loose shirt and shorts with a blanket wrapped around her ankles.

"Um...Scarlett?"

She looked up at him, her hair falling in her eyes as she frowned.

"Sean, you didn't have to bring the doctor," she groaned, pushing her dark hair from her face to glare at him.

Bruce had just seen these very eyes—the same shade and sparkle, on Dylan, but they seemed much more suited to her pale face. She had a mix of anger and guilt in them. He supposed the guilt was toward him, for coming all this way for a patient who didn't quite want him to be there.

"It's not Sean, Scarlett. It's Dylan."

The boy looked worried, and for some reason Bruce clutched his bag closer to him.

"Oh it was a mistake. Don't look at me like that," the girl protested, pushing herself up by her elbows.

"I'm not."

"Yes, that's your 'She's struggling, let me make her talk about it' face."

"That's oddly specific."

"Dylan, shut up."

Bruce felt awkward standing in the middle of a family argument. Plus, he didn't come all this way for nothing. So he pushed his glasses up and looked at his patient—which she was, no matter what she wanted.

"So a fever and vomiting yesterday?" he asked. "And Dylan mentioned a rash."

Scarlett turned the color of her name, as if she'd forgotten he was there, before answering his question.

"Yes," she answered, biting her lip. She slowly pushed away the blanket to show him. He looked at the rash dappling her legs, a change from the color on her arms and face.

"If I had to guess it'd be Dengue."

"I worried about that."

Bruce had to double check if she was being sarcastic, but after studying her for a moment realized she wasn't.

"You know about it?"

"She's in med school," Dylan piped up somewhat proudly.

"I _was_," she corrected hastily.

"So you know that unfortunately there's not much to do except rest and fluids."

"No medicine?" Dylan asked, scratching his neck.

"Afraid not. Aspirin for the fever or any joint pain, but it's more of a waiting out than an attack."

He closed his bag, not having needed anything from it, and picked it up off the floor.

"Alright. Thank you, doctor, we really appreciate it."

Dylan shook his hand and smiled.

"No problem," Bruce said turning, "Let me know if anything gets worse."

Bruce nodded at both of them, noticing Scarlett smile at him before she sank back into her blankets. He didn't know quite what it was, but he felt calm as he exited, glad for once that he didn't have to deliver bad news.

* * *

I don't know why I felt nervous walking on the street alone. Maybe it was because I really didn't know my way around, or maybe it was because I had barely seen sunlight all week. Either way, I ignored the dirt in my sandals and smoothed my hair as I raised my hand to knock on the door.

The doctor answered a moment later and I felt a quick whip of panic when no name came to mind. He looked surprised to see me, evident behind his glasses, and paused in the doorway.

"Scarlett right?"

"Yes...doctor," I finished lamely.

"Bruce," he offered.

He had a quiet, but sure way of speaking like he knew what he wanted to say even if he was a little polite or shy.

"Bruce," I repeated, nodding.

"Um...come in," he offered, biting his lip and moving aside. He outstretched his hand toward the inside and I felt obligated to enter, partly from politeness, and partly to satisfy my curiosity.

His place was smaller than ours, with simple furniture and stacks of books on the table. There weren't any pictures on the walls, just white paint that crackled in the corners, and a few shirts hanging on the backs of chairs.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, a little haltingly, as if he wasn't used to company. Which he probably wasn't—as I understood, he made a lot of house calls.

"I'd love a beer or a rum and coke."

He nodded quickly before registering what I said. I laughed at the look on his face.

"I was kidding. Water or tea, whatever's easier."

He looked at me strangely before flashing me the briefest of smiles—the first I'd seen on him. It made him look younger, despite the slightly big clothes and gray streaks in his hair. As he walked to get it, I sat down on a wooden chair next to his coffee table, which was covered in books.

Most of them were about medicine, but a lot of them were about science, and one was about India.

He walked in slowly, handing me a cup with what smelled like tea.

"Thank you," I said, grabbing the warm mug. "I didn't mean to impose so much I just wanted to return this—I think you dropped it in my room."

I pulled the bottle out of my pocket, a small Penicillin that I'm sure he'd been missing.

"Oh, thanks," he said, taking it from me. His hands dwarfed mine and made the bottle look even smaller. "I was looking for that."

"I also wanted to thank you for coming by. Dylan's kind of a worry wart. And I was probably a little brattier than I should have been."

"You were," he said flatly.

I looked up sharply, almost spitting out my tea at his bluntness.

"Kidding," he said, smirking. "You were fine. Sickness doesn't always bring out the nice in people. But you probably know that."

I didn't, at least not first hand. I hadn't progressed to doing any real hospital yet, but I didn't exactly want to delve into that on the first real conversation I'd had with him.

"I can imagine," I offered instead, nodding my head. "But they're lucky to have you here."

"I try."

"I'm jealous of your books. I could hardly fit any into my suitcases," I said, rubbing a hand over the spines. Something about reading had always soothed me, but it was hard to lug my favorite novels across oceans.

"Feel free to borrow any," he offered, eyes scanning the table. "Brush up on your medicine."

"Wouldn't want to throw thousands down the drain..." I said, my heart not truly meaning it.

"If you..." Bruce trailed off, fingering the frays of his shirt. "Never mind, you have your plate full with all the children."

"What?" I prodded, putting my cup down next to a textbook bigger than all the other books combined.

"Well, if you ever have free time or want to remember your training, you could help me out. No obligation, though. I'm sure you quit med school for a reason."

I inhaled sharply, willing myself not to think of my reasons. Or my main reason, at least, because that usually weighed me down until I couldn't even cry.

He looked at me in worry, his eyes wrinkled at the corners. He was actually quite handsome, in a messy, quiet way. I'm not sure what it was, but I found myself trusting him which was something I didn't usually do so easily.

"I'm sorry-that's personal-"

"No, it's okay."

I'm not sure what made me say it. I didn't even want to be a doctor anymore, but something about his presence was soothing and interesting all at the same time. And I did come here to help people after all...

"I'd like to help you."

* * *

_Thank you so much to everyone who read/reviewed the last chapter! Your feedback is quite encouraging, if I do say so myself. :) This story will have action but I thought a peaceful start was fitting. Hope you like it! _


	3. Chapter 3

**For time and the world do not stand still. Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or the present are certain to miss the future.  
**

-John F. Kennedy

* * *

_"Mom's flipping a lid because the caterer is late," Sean said, closing the door behind me as quietly as possible. "Avoid the line of fire."_

_"Noted," I laughed, tossing my hair over my shoulder. "You'd think a 30th anniversary party would be a happy affair."_

_Sean flopped on my bed, which was made for once, but still covered in socks and T-shirts. He leaned back to the window beside my pillow, pulling back the gauzy white curtain._

_"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"_

_I knew exactly what he was thinking. I also knew my obsessive-compulsive mother would actually smite me down if I went along._

_"Sean, we're not teenagers anymore."_

_"I didn't know teenagers had the rights on climbing out the window," he said breezily, fixing me with an infamously dangerous grin._

_"You're right. Criminals and fire victims are up there too."_

_He laughed and pulled up the shade._

_"Sean—"_

_"Scar, please. Ever since you started med school, you've been no fun. And I never see you anymore."_

_That was it—he always knew the nerve to push. I usually had to be angered into action. _

_"Mom mentioned you helping her setting the table..."_

_He puffed out his lower lip-a strange sight on his no-longer-the-baby-of-the-family face. But it had the same affect as always. _

_"The party starts in one hour. We have to be back by then."_

* * *

Sometimes I felt like I would be consumed with everything I was feeling. Like I would never be able to do anything normal again—pour a drink of water, read a book without being completely angry, so miserable I couldn't move.

But time passed, and I had to focus on the normal things. Oddly enough, it was routine that was the worst. The things I once did without thinking could make me fall into a rib-crushing crouch.

So when Dylan asked to me to uproot my life to a place I had never seen before surrounded by people I'd never met before, I knew I had to go.

I hadn't expected to like it. But I was starting to feel close to the children. There were so many awful things here. Poverty. Disease. Houses too small to breathe. But these children seemed blissfully unaware and resilient—it was so easy to light up their faces.

"Have you ever been there?" I asked Madira, pointing to a bright picture in the book I held in front of us. I spoke mostly in gestures with the children, and she seemed to understand me more than most of them.

She shook her head, turning to the next page herself.

"There?" I asked, wondering how much of her country she had seen.

She shook her head again, entranced by the big, bold letters and glossy pictures.

"Most of them have never left this village. Or don't remember it," Dylan told me, patting Madira's messy brown hair as he sat next to me on the wicker bench.

I could hear Joanna, another volunteer, calling in the kids for lunch but Madira stayed put, mesmerized by the photographs.

"What is this?" he asked, watching Madira beckon over another child to look at a large picture of an intricate archway with a stunning blue sky behind it.

"_A Guide to India_."

"You're in India. Just...walk outside."

"It's more to relieve boredom."

"See the previous answer," Dylan laughed, shaking his head. "Where did you get it from?"

"It's Bruce's," I said, leaning away from Madira.

Dylan paused a moment, his eyes wrinkling in thought.

"The doctor?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at me.

"Yes."

"The American doctor?"

I sensed his tone, and only wanted to deflect it. Dylan was notorious for getting carried away. He teased me relentlessly as a child.

"He might be Canadian. We never discussed it."

"Isn't he a little old?"

"To be Canadian? I don't think there are rules about that sort of thing..."

Dylan rolled his eyes, curiosity mode surging on. I tried to imagine him being calm and collected. To just let it go, or be too uncomfortable to bring it up. Unfortunately, Dylan didn't have a "leave it alone" bone in his body.

"Scarlett—"

"Dyl, I borrowed a book from him. I like talking to him. We are not going to have a passionate love affair."

Dylan, to my surprise, smiled. He patted my shoulder and then flipped a piece of my hair into my face.

"Hey, love away. I was just asking."

I peered at him for a moment, to see if he was joking. Our eyes were the same color, but his looked brighter when the sun was in them, like right now. Emeralds stared back at me, complacent and not prying.

"Don't worry about it," I finally said, turning away. "I did _not _come here to fall in love."

Dylan smiled and nodded, hitting my arm.

"You did come to help with the kids, though. So kindly get your ass up and help me teach them how to play soccer."

* * *

"Deven, stop leaving the field," I told the straying boy, using my firmest tone. Of course, I was using 'field' loosely, because it was more of a vacant dirt lot that I'd drawn a square on with a stick.

He grinned at me, running back to his team. He was the tallest of the group, but for some reason thought I wouldn't see him trying to inch away. That, and he was wearing a bright neon yellow shirt.

These kids would be the death of me.

I was helplessly trying to oversee a soccer game, but Dylan had joined the children rather than help me and I hadn't perfected my stern voice. So, I'd settled with a seat on the smallest patch of dried grass I'd ever seen, and watched them hit the ball around and squeal if someone tried to fire it past Dylan.

"Madira, you need to pass the ball!" I called to the little girl, miming the action. "No—no don't pick it up!"

I laughed as she cradled the ball between her hands, sticking her tongue out at the rest of the children. They all immediately surrounded her and tried to pry it away.

"Guys!" I shook my head, knowing it was useless to shout a reminder about the rules. They were too busy shouting to hear me, and they only knew a few words of English anyway. At least they were having fun which was the point in the first place.

"Soccer's changed since the last time I saw it..."

I jumped in surprise and turned around to see Bruce smiling shyly. He had on a blazer over a wrinkled gray T-shirt. I smiled at his ruffled appearance.

"Sorry Scarlett, didn't mean to startle you."

"I...no problem, it's just—"

"Scarlett! Bruce! Come play with us!"

"You don't have to..." I told him immediately, seeing the hesitant look on his face.

"No...I want to," he said, shrugging off his blazer. He fixed his glasses and smoothed his shirt, beckoning me forward. "Unless you don't want a star forward on your team?"

"Oh really?" I laughed, shaking my head. He didn't appear especially coordinated to me, but I really wasn't one to talk.

"Well...I'm probably a little better than that kid wearing the ball as a hat."

I smiled and followed him as we walked toward the children. They finally put down the ball as we reached them. It was much dirtier than we were started, but at least it hadn't deflated much.

"Okay, same teams as before, Scarlett you'll be on my team, and Bruce you'll be on the other. Raise your hand if you're on Bruce's team so he knows who you are."

Dylan repeated the request in their language, something I still wasn't used to, and I took note of my own team.

"Let's play!" Dylan announced.

To say that the children lacked formation would be an understatement. The game turned into a horde of children lurking around the ball, which never made it too far without switching teams. Bruce and I stood on the outskirts, mostly trying not to get trampled by them. The smallest boy, Sai, stood with us, being too timid to join the rest.

"Go on Sai," I whispered. He was on the other team, but he was reluctant to get involved.

He looked up at me with wide brown eyes but didn't say anything. I tried to push him forward but he just ran to the other side.

I suppose I wasn't getting involved either, so I'd show him how it was done...

"Anya!" I called, waving my arms for the ball.

The little girl swung her shiny black braid behind her and kicked it to me. It deflected off Deven, who swung wildly and missed, and actually landed near my feet.

I was close to Dylan, who stared at me in determination. Being a goalie in high school, I knew he wasn't going to take it easy on me. But being without a net was definitely to my advantage.

Aiming between the two rocks we'd designated as goal posts, I kicked the ball as steadily as I could...

...Right into Dylan's hands.

"Curses!" I yelled, waving my fists in the air. Dylan smiled and tossed the ball toward the children.

"Nice shot," Bruce offered, smiling slightly at me.

"I can't tell if you're being sympathetic or condescending." I studied his face, but he gave nothing away.

"Sympascending? Me? Never."

I smiled. There was something about his moments of quirkiness that left me guessing about what he was like underneath all the brains and sense of disheveled genius-ness he gave off.

"Back to the game you two!"

I flinched at Dylan's piercing yell and we both jogged back over to the children, now avoiding each other's eyes.

Deven now had the ball. He managed to dribble it for a few moments before the screaming children descended upon him. He kicked it toward Bruce who looked surprised to have the ball headed his way.

Bruce was only a few feet from the goal. The goalkeeper on the other end was the biggest kid we had—granted, they were all skinny as posts, but he actually was starting to have some muscle and almost matched Deven in height.

But instead of shooting, Bruce tapped the ball to his left. I hadn't seen at first, but Sai was standing beside him, swinging his arms back and forth. He looked down slowly to see the ball at his feet.

"Shoot!" I found myself yelling, smiling through my words.

Sai looked at Bruce who nodded and gestured toward the ball. He wound up and kicked it toward—and past—the goalie.

"Score!" Dylan yelled from the opposite end, raising his arms in triumph.

I laughed and looked back at Sai, who Bruce hoisted in his arms and lifted above his head. The other children crowded around them—all congratulating the little boy even if he wasn't on their team.

I heard Dylan's footsteps behind me, and felt him place a warm hand on my shoulder.

"So much for no passionate love affair, huh?"

It suddenly occurred to me that we were far from the town, not exactly in a place that Bruce would just happen to wander by.

"You invited him, didn't you?"

"Don't change the subject."

I looked at Bruce, who suddenly seemed conscious about his burst of excitement, and who now placed Sai on the ground with a pat to the head. His glasses were slightly crooked as he smiled sheepishly in our direction.

My heart skipped a little as I elbowed Dylan in the stomach.

* * *

_The response to this has been amazing! You guys are the best. Really hope you liked this one! _


	4. Chapter 4

**"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."**

-C. S. Lewis

* * *

_"We used to sneak out of the house to go to concerts and midnight movies," Sean laughed, watching me lick my ice cream cone. "What have we become?"_

_"Old?" I asked, smiling through vanilla. "I'd also like to point out that it's only one o'clock in the afternoon and our choices were severely limited."_

_"Point taken. Street cred is back."_

_Sean hopped off the sidewalk like he always did when we were kids, opting to walk on the shoulder of the road and letting me have the pavement. He was always the reckless one, but he still had the silly notion to protect me._

_"So how is school?" Sean watched chocolate rivets flow down his fingers and groaned in frustration, quickly trying to wipe them away._

_"A complete breeze," I joked. "At this point I'm doing it just for the easy As."_

_"Not your earnest reason of saving lives?"_

_"A mere side effect, brother."_

_He shook his head, taking a bite of his ice cream in the process. He was always eager to finish his food—I was barely through my first scoop._

_"How was your sophomore year? Is English as I remember it?"_

_"Brilliant and useless? Yes, yes it is."_

_I smiled as we rounded the corner. We were only a few blocks from home now. We lived off a pretty busy road so the sound increased from tires and loud radios. I could never live anywhere silent after living here._

_"I'm not really sure what I want to do anymore..."_

_"Well you have time," I pointed out._

_"Yeah but...you knew you wanted to be a doctor since we were what, ten? I never had a big dream like that."_

_I watched Sean's face turn serious, which wasn't a look I was very accustomed to. I felt like he was always on the brink of smile, his face always caught in a bright-eyed half smirk. But now he just looked contemplative, and a little lost._

_"Not everyone does."_

_"I have no special skills, you know?"_

_"Just take some time and think...what would you not get tired of doing? What would make you happy for the next few years?"_

_Sean's mouth had just started to open when I heard the screech._

* * *

"Who are you Bruce Banner?"

Bruce looked up sharply at my question, making me regret it almost instantly. But I didn't take it back, because I had been curious for weeks. I knew almost nothing about him, and for someone I saw on an almost regular basis, I felt like something was..._deliberately _missing.

"What do you mean?" He tilted his head in such a way that the sun caught the reflection of his glasses, making me squint to maintain eye contact.

"You know...where are you from? Why are you here?"

"So who am I...existentially?"

I smiled at his rebuff, pushing away my plate. I didn't have much of an appetite here for some reason, and the smells that surrounded us on the street weren't helping.

"You know what I meant."

Bruce cleared his throat, pushing away his own plate now. He smoothed his slightly wrinkled clothes—a habit I'd grown to find endearing.

"I'm from Dayton, Ohio. My childhood...was awful for lack of a better term." He bit his lip. "My adult life didn't turn out much better, I guess. I came here to get away from everything and maybe help some people while I'm at it. Why are _you_ here?"

I should have anticipated the question, but for some reason I didn't. And I knew somehow that I'd have to say the words out loud, but I never had before. And for a moment, they became tangible and stuck in the center of my throat.

"You don't have to answer me," Bruce assured, noting the look on my face with the quiet concern that was often etched there. "It's not fair."

"It is fair," I said, "You answered mine."

"Somewhat vaguely." He smiled now, a small but helpful gesture.

I took a deep breath and felt every part of my body expand.

"I'm from Long Island," I told him, fighting to keep his eye. "My brother died and I...couldn't stay at home anymore. So I came here."

The words hung between now, having escaped the narrowness of my throat. They felt strange to me, like I had heard someone else say them and was now observing the situation from the outside.

"I'm sorry."

Bruce looked like he knew that was the hollow, generic thing to say, and bowed his head in slight embarrassment. I shrugged my shoulders, deciding to continue while I was at it. I didn't talk much about this, so maybe this was my one opportunity to get it all out.

"My parents weren't that close to begin with. My father was rarely home, and my mother tried to compensate for it way too much. It just got worse after Sean...my mother wouldn't leave me alone and I wasn't ready to deal with it."

"Wasn't she...?" Bruce trailed off, his question unspoken but implied.

"She was distraught but she forged through. I was so mad at her for being normal." I fought back the familiar sensation in my throat and behind my eyes. "She was all about going on with my life. But I was afraid..." I thought for a moment. "I _am_ afraid to live in a world he doesn't exist in. Does that make sense?"

My voice sounded small to me, and for a moment I wondered if he could even hear me.

"I don't understand fear," he finally said. "But being afraid has always made sense to me."

I felt warmth travel through my stomach, despite everything, just to have someone agree.

"I followed Dylan here," I finished, looking around. Despite the dirt roads and dirtier children, there were bright colors everywhere-yellows and reds that pierced the gloom. "He's the only family I have that can actually make me feel better."

"I can see that."

Bruce smiled at me, reaching forward his arm to squeeze my hand that was resting on the table. It was brief, but warm pinpricks danced through my fingers and I smiled.

There was a silence after that, not quite awkward but more of the kind that happens when there aren't words to say.

I took a sip of my drink and Bruce copied, raising his eyebrows at me as he did so and causing me to grin and break the air of depression that had enveloped us.

"So tell me more," I insisted, wanting to get the subject off of myself.

"Well," Bruce started, tapping his chin. "Did I tell you about the time I was an atomic physicist?"

* * *

When you're a depressed, formerly suicidal, volatile person, it was a big deal to feel calm around someone. That was the first indication to Bruce that something must be terribly wrong.

He did not have friends. He did not date. He did not forge connections with people because people equal drama and drama equals emotional turmoil and emotional turmoil equals hulkish, hellish problems.

As he watched Scarlett listen to one of the street vendors, he thought he could see the small places where she was broken.

Her eyes—sometimes when no one else was looking, he saw the same hollowness he saw in his own. She still had her sense of humor and tried to be present, but she faraway moments, and he finally learned where she went.

Her jaw—sometimes he looked over and saw it clenched in a familiar, determined way. He wondered if her teeth were in the same rigid position as his when he tried to forget things.

Her hands—they were never still. Her anxiety showed there the most, whether she was twirling the rings on her fingers or tapping whatever surface she was closest to.

Despite these things, he still felt like he would ruin her. It wasn't fair to get close to her, especially if she was healing.

But every time he saw her, his intentions fell through. His plans to break contact were quelled by something about her that made him swallow his words. His emotions were different around her—easier somehow, like he couldn't hold them back like he usually did.

And for all these things, for all the good moments, one thought stuck through no matter why he tried to convince himself to stay near her.

_I cannot ruin her like I ruin everything else._

* * *

_31 reviews in 3 chapters is a best for me, so thank you so much! I hope people are liking this, but there is only one way to know for sure.. ;) _


	5. Chapter 5

**"Make up your mind to act decidedly and take the consequences. No good is ever done in this world by hesitation."**

_**-**_Thomas Huxley_  
_

* * *

_"Scarlett you should really try to step outdoors today."_

_I looked up at my mother, whose own grief was only apparent in the shadows underneath her eyes. My grief was apparent from my eyes to my clothes down to my bones and then to my very cells, who refused to move and barely allowed me to breathe. _

_"No thanks."_

_"Aunt Elaine is taking out Dylan for his going away party. Don't you want to come? He'll be in India for six months."_

_"He said he'd stop by," I said, playing with the frays on my sweater. I hadn't taken it off in a few days, so I'd been effectively unraveling it as I wasted away._

_"Scarlett, your father and I have been talking." She perched herself on the edge of my bed, guilt lacing the posture of her limbs from her elbows to her neck. "We think you should go to a psychiatrist." _

…_Which would require going outside, and spilling my internal miseries to a stranger?_

_"Can't you just leave me alone?" I moaned, rolling over in bed and pulling a blanket over my head._

_"It's been over a month, Scarlett, you have to move on with your life."_

_"Like you have? You haven't even touched his room. You won't even say his name outloud."_

_"Sean," she said, her voice only quivering slightly. "Wouldn't have wanted you to be like this."_

_I sensed the opportunity to argue, or make a sarcastic quip that I usually would jump on. But now I was just too tired to do anything. _

_"Please just leave me alone."_

* * *

"Scarlett you are the only one that can calm them down," Hank said, his eyes pleading with me as he ushered the two children into my doorway. They were squirming, still trying to poke each other as Hank separated them even farther.

"Madira have you been fighting again?"

I looked at the girl, her hair in disarray as she blinked up at me. The younger boy at her side was sporting a scrape from his shoulder to his elbow, the wound red but thankfully not bleeding. I pointed at the boy's wound with an accusatory look, which caused her to divert her eyes.

They stopped trying to go at each other, and I beckoned the boy over to me, waving Hank away with my hand.

"Thanks, they just wouldn't stop," Hank said, leading Madira out so I could take a look at Raj's cut. He looked nervous as I gripped his skinny arm, reaching for the first-aid kid on the shelf.

"Don't worry. A band-aid or two will do it."

He visibly relaxed, seeing I was just going to dab it with some alcohol.

"It'll sting, just for one moment."

I maintained eye contact with him, hoping my ease would ease him. It seemed to work, and after he was bandaged up, he smiled at me and scurried from the room.

I reached under my bed and groped for my sandals. They were dirty but that was kind of inevitable here, so I strapped them on anyway and ran a brush through my hair.

I walked outside, watching Hank welcome Raj back to the group with a smile. He was setting up a board game, but I couldn't see which one from where I was.

I went to the other side of the room, sidestepping a small stack of useless and deflated balls and toys, to see if I could fine Dylan. All I saw was Joanna sitting on the bench, so I decided to see if she knew.

"Hey Joanna, have you seen Dylan?"

Joanna's blonde hair bobbed as she perked her head up at me, her serious, sharp features in thought.

"I think he went on a run, if I remember correctly," she told me, her polite way of speaking always making her sound formal. "Did you need him for something?"

"I'm headed to the market and I was going to ask if he wanted to come."

She nodded her head at me and looked back down at the book she was reading. I realized with a slight stab of guilt that I should probably ask her to come with me—Dylan was the only volunteer here I really spoke to, but Joanna seemed nice enough.

"Would you like to join me?"

"I would," she said, smiling at me. "But if you and Dylan are gone, we should have at least two people staying with the kids."

I nodded in agreement, sighing, before realizing something. I could ask Bruce. I tried to lie myself that I felt happy about going to the market, but my feet somehow moved faster as I backed away from Joanna.

"Alright, I'll see you soon then."

She waved, and just before I turned around, I swear I saw her smile.

I walked the path to Bruce's place and marveled at how this now seemed familiar to me. How my feet knew the dirt roads and which small alleys I could take a short-cut through. How my senses could tell where I was from the smells in the air or the people I saw.

I smiled as I waved at the little girl who always peered from her window until her mother called her away. I watched her wave back happily before the green curtain fell away.

I knocked at Bruce's door, happy that I'd chosen to wear one of my cleaner, long dresses than happened to cover my dirty black sandals. It was hard to walk here without getting dirt in all of your shoes.

Bruce opened the door, scratching his head which made his hair even messier than usual.

"Hey Scarlett. What are you doing here?"

"I'm just headed to the market. Do you want to come? I'm a little intimidated by the whole thing."

I watched hesitation cross his face, and his eyes flickered behind his lenses.

"I'm actually...pretty busy."

I peered around him and saw that there was no one inside. Just a red mug on the table and an open magazine.

I felt my face fall for a moment, but quickly masked it with a smile. Maybe he'd been called away for a medical emergency or had some sort of plans this afternoon.

"That's fine. Maybe another time then Mr. Busy Doctor."

"I'll actually be busy for a while...a lot of, erm, cases have come in. So if you don't see me for a few days that's why."

I looked at him. Really looked at him. With his five o'clock shadow that never quite disappeared, and the slight wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. There was something unusually..._distant_ about him, no matter how hard I pushed, but this was the first time I could sense it in his voice.

"Is something the matter?" I asked him, wishing I wasn't standing at his door and feeling like an idiot.

"No."

"Then why are you blowing me off for an indefinite amount of time? I thought we got along pretty well..."

"We do. It's just—well, I don't want to give you the wrong impression."

I looked up sharply.

"What impression is that?"

He stared at me for a moment. I could feel the anger pulsing through my veins and giving me the courage to say words that I might normally have swallowed.

But before he said anything, he was leaning forward and gripping my shoulders. And before I could say anything, he was kissing me.

It was different than I'd expected. It wasn't slow and steady like Bruce was, but harried and mind-erasing. I barely even remembered where I was as he moved his hands to the back of my neck and pulled me closer to him.

He was warm. His skin felt like he had a fever, but I didn't care because the warmth was spreading from our mouths down my toes and I suddenly forgot I had ever been mad at him.

He smelled like shampoo and coffee and I gripped his already wrinkled shirt in my fist. I had knew that I liked him, but as he kissed me I wondered how I lasted not doing this sooner.

And then he ripped away the warm feeling, the pull in my stomach, and pushed me away like he'd been burned.

I blinked stupidly at him, still lost in the haze of him being so close to me.

"I'm sorry. I have to stop. Too much..." He trailed off and shook his head, a look of regret on his face and he pounded a fist on his forehead. "That was the opposite of what I was trying to do."

"I'm not sure what the opposite of that is?"

I immediately quieted, realizing this was much more serious to him than I imagined. Was it the age difference? Was it some sort of hindrance to his career?

"Scarlett...I'm not normal."

I looked at him, confused. He was disheveled and smart and funny in a quiet way. I didn't really care about normalcy, because hell knows I was far from it.

"No one's normal," I assured him, "I'm not normal—"

"No I'm really _not_ normal. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

It sounded like an empty excuse if I'd ever heard one, but he was definitely being the most serious I had ever seen him.

"I don't know why you're saying this."

My voice came out in almost a whisper. His eyes fell to his bare feet.

"I just don't think I should be around you anymore. It's really for your own good, I promise you."

I watched in silence as he looked up one more time, his dark eyes regarding me with an expression I had seen on him, but couldn't quite decipher. Before I could try to study it anymore, he closed the door, leaving me to study the cracked wood instead.

* * *

_Reviews are, as always, welcomed with open, loving arms!_


	6. Chapter 6

**"Men in rage strike those that wish them best."**

-William Shakespeare

* * *

"You're awfully downcast today," Dylan said, throwing himself down next to me, despite my bed being narrow and clearly only meant for one. "Did you get swindled at the market?"

"No."

He smelled like shampoo so I knew he'd just doused his head in water behind the house. Even though his skin was lighter, his eyes still shone in amusement.

"Did Madira challenge you to Monopoly? Did you 'pretend' to lose again?"

"No."

I sighed and tried to move away from him, but he moved closer so he was looking up at me. He needed a new hobby, but I didn't have the heart to tell him as his expression changed from a smirk to a frown.

"Are you going to tell me?"

I paused. There wasn't really a reason not to tell him. Besides, now if he saw Bruce he didn't have to act like an idiot and invite him to play soccer with us again.

"I think I scared Bruce away," I said, twirling the silver ring on my finger. "Not that we were...you know, dating or anything. But he was nice to be around and I freaked him out by telling him about Sean and how I'm secretly harboring intense baggage and misery."

"You told him about Sean?"

Dylan's ears would have perked up if he was a dog, but instead he sat upright in the bed and locked gazes with me. His was now smoldering.

"Yes..."

"You won't even talk to_ me_ about Sean."

"I don't like to talk about him," I reminded, swallowing the ever-growing lump in my throat that threatened to turn into tears.

"Except to mysterious men you barely know..."

His eyes flashed in anger, and I almost felt the sting of a slap he didn't even place on my face.

"I know him," I tried to argue.

"Did it ever occur to you that I miss Sean too?" Dylan continued, as if he didn't hear me. "He was my family as much as you are, and you'd rather talk to a near perfect stranger than to your own flesh and blood—"

"—It's not like that!" I defended. "It's not like I'm purposely not talking to you."

"Of course you are! How many times a day do I ask if you're alright? If you wanna talk? You never do. But now I see you just don't want to talk to _me_."

"I came here because of you. I came here because I do want to talk to _you_."

"It seems that way," Dylan said, rolling his eyes.

"It **is** that way. And you'll be relieved to hear that Bruce does not think we should see each other anymore, so I won't be talking to him much in the future."

I tried to calm myself down, taking deep breaths and hoping Dylan would follow suit. There's nothing worse in the world than having an abnormally cheerful person mad at you. I think I realized by the lull that we had both turned to wistfulness, and I felt the anger dissipate from my chest.

"You know that's not what I want."

Dylan grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard, like he used to when we were kids and playing Red Rover in my backyard. I squeezed back—once our signal that we wouldn't give up, no matter who was running at us.

"Well...it's not important," I said, as firmly as I could. "I don't know him very well, so let's get on with it."

"Right. You guys just...you never started anything. So let's cheer up and go play with the kids."

At his words, I thought of Bruce's lips on mine. How the heat spread to my entire body and the tips of all my fingers and toes felt like electricity was dancing through them.

Dylan looked at me expectantly, rising from the bed and lingering in the doorway.

"Right," I agreed, hoping I was not turning the color of my name. "I'm coming."

* * *

It was busy as Bruce walked through the streets. It was different to clear your head here—it was almost like being in a city with all the hustle and bustle, but the lights were fewer and far between than New York and the streets had more people than cars.

He was trying to be distracted. It was easy with all the illness he had to attend to lately, but even as he followed the small girl through the alleys, Scarlett's crestfallen face flashed through his mind.

Why did he feel so guilty? This was better for her, after all. He couldn't imagine what she'd think if she'd known she was kissing someone who after a few minutes of that kind of high pressure could morph into a monster.

Of course, there were bigger problems here than his love life. Poverty and disease, for two, but it was hard not to have selfish thoughts. Why did he have to kiss her? Maybe he could have moved on but now the memory played on a loop in his head and didn't let him...

Bruce saw a car's headlights and held the small girl back for a moment. In her frenzy, she had almost kept running and this jolted him from his daydream.

Self-pity later, real case now.

The girl continued to run, pushing aside old, tattered red curtains to lead him to her father.

He barely had time to look around the ramshackle place before she ran for the closest window and hoisted herself out.

"Should've got paid up front, Banner," he muttered to himself.

He almost rolled his eyes. He'd come all the way to the edge of the city, and for what?

"You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress you've picked a hell of a place to settle..."

And here it was. The moment he'd been anticipating and dreading for almost a year.

He'd been found.

* * *

I had taken to walking at night, which I thought would have been quieter than the day but was surprisingly a time of bustle around here.

"How do you know all these people?" Joanna asked, watching as I nodded and smiled to almost everyone we passed on the street. I was bad with names, but recognized the faces which was fine when all I had to do was say hello.

"I'm kind of a regular around here," I said with a smile. I had become pretty good at haggling, if I did say so myself, but found myself buying things I didn't really need just to get out of the house a little.

Joanna smirked at me and beckoned for the children to keep around her so we didn't lose any of them. It didn't really matter besides, because they all knew the streets better than us, but it was nice to have them all in sight anyway.

I stopped to study some fruit in a woven basket when Joanna tapped my shoulder.

"The kids want to look at those," she said, indicating to something on her right that I couldn't even see.

"Alright, I'm going to browse. I'll meet you back here."

She nodded and I watched her disappear into the crowd and wandered off in the opposite direction, taking in everything around me. It was hard to think much when you were weaving through the crowd, but it thinned more and more as I walked farther.

I had come to a point that I didn't recognize, but I was pretty sure I could find my way back. I didn't really feel like dealing with the crowds right now, and walking was actually quite peaceful when I wasn't surrounded.

I was about five minutes into my saunter when I noticed a figure ahead of me...a very familiar figure.

I started to jog to meet his pace, and as soon as I reached him yanked his arm backward. Dylan yelped in surprise, his eyes widening at me.

"Scar, what are you doing here?"

"Walking," I said, "What are you doing?"

"I was running. I usually go farther out to get away from the people."

I watched as his eyes flittered to the direction he'd been heading toward, and then as they settled back on me with a weird expression.

"Why do you look like that?" I asked, noting his shifty gaze and protruding bottom lip.

I looked back in the direction he'd come from, and started walking. There were a few people around, but I could now see one distinct one entering a house about thirty feet from where we stood.

"Why are you following Bruce?" I hissed, slapping Dylan in the back of the head.

He rubbed it with a frown, shrugging his shoulders against my glare.

"Well I started out with the intention of yelling at him," he mumbled back. "Then I didn't want to do it in front of a little girl, but I'd come so far...and it all morphed into curiosity about where we were."

I rolled my eyes at him, because for all our talk, we were not confrontational. I don't think Dylan or I had ever really yelled at someone who wasn't in our immediate family.

"Well...did you find anything interesting?" I asked, putting my hands on his hips.

"Not yet," Dylan said, looking wistfully back at the house. Bruce had disappeared inside and I could now only see shifting lights and shadows.

"I just have one question," I asked, looking up at him. He was sweaty—he must have been on a run, but his face was probably flushed for other reasons too.

"What?" he asked tentatively, his eyebrows lowering.

"Can you keep your voice down?"

Dylan's frown turned to a wide grin.

"Aren't you going to tell me to turn around any mind my own business?"

"Well," I said, shrugging. "We did come all this way. A quick peek won't hurt."

I couldn't help it. I was curious. And fine, maybe I did want to see Bruce after a week of doctor-deprivation, and yes, I was secretly hoping he looked like hell.

"There's my girl," Dylan said, grabbing my hand and pulling me along.

We reached the house in just a few moments, careful not to make too much noise as we walked around the sides. We crept keeping our backs at an angle so we weren't showing up prominently in the window.

We both peered into the house, where the insides matched the outsides. It reminded me of where we stayed, where things were mostly second-hand and definitely got a lot of use. I saw the back of Bruce's head for a moment and my heart constricted before I realized he had basically cut me from his life and I should just be deeply, bitterly angry.

With a small sweep of the view, I couldn't see the little girl anywhere. But suddenly, I caught a glimpse of red hair.

"Who is—"

"Back away from the window."

At first I thought Dylan was playing a prank before I realized the voice was deeper and farther away than my right hand side. I could feel Dylan's arm tense and we both shared a look of frozen anxiety.

"You have three seconds."

"Dyl—"

"It's okay, Scar. We'll give them what we have and they'll leave us alone."

I swallowed and began to turn around, digging into my pocket for any spare money I might have in my coat.

"She's reaching for a weapon."

I caught a glimpse of a man in uniform just before I realized the weapon pointed directly at me. With my stomach catapulting, I started to withdraw my hand from my pocket, but it was too late.

_"Shoot."_

* * *

_Loving the reviews, keep 'em coming! :) _

_P.S. Sorry if the movie dialogue is a little wrong, I was trying to write it as I watched. _


	7. Chapter 7

**"I begin to think, that a calm is not desirable in any situation in life. Man was made for action and for bustle too, I believe."**

-Abigail Adams

* * *

It smelled like everything I associated with death. Antiseptic, rubber gloves, and bleach tickled my nostrils until I opened my eyes and decided I had no idea where I was.

_I don't think I made a noise as I fell to the ground, but maybe I did and was drowned out by Dylan's frantic shouting. All I could register was the pain that exploded in my leg—more intense than anything I'd ever felt._

I looked around the room. It was extremely small so my bed and the machines checking my vitals were the only things in there. It looked and smelled like a hospital but for some reason I got the impression I was somewhere else.

_Bruce emerged, looking as harried as ever to my red stained, fading vision. We locked eyes, and I think he looked afraid but I was more concerned with the bullet in my leg._

There was no around, even though I had yelled into the emptiness. I tried to move but the bandage on my leg was stiff and sore and the IV running through my arm didn't give me a lot of space to bend.

_"Just a flesh wound," I tried to joke, but I'm sure my words barely came out. My leg felt like it'd been chopped in half and I was left with the dangling remains, but a look told me it was still there—bloody and hellish, but there._

I tried to shimmy my bed toward the door, but a fresh slice of pain scissored up my leg. I froze in place but red started to poke through the whiteness.

_"What are you doing?" Bruce had yelled, a tremor passing through his body. I noticed the shaking despite being on the floor, and Dylan must have too because he placed himself in front of me. "You're here for me, not her!"_

I laid back down, defeated. I was in a strange place after being shot after witnessing something I couldn't even properly remember. How had it come to this?

_"It was supposed to be a tranquilizer," the man in uniform defended, backing away from Bruce. I watched him continue to shake, trying not to move as pain turned to numbness turned to almost complete darkness._

What was Bruce involved in? He'd been talking to the uniformed guard as if he wasn't surprised that he was there. You're here for me, he'd said. For what? The pain allowed the question to echo in my head but not think of any possible reasons.

_"Calm down," I told Bruce. His shaking was so bad he couldn't even place a foot in front of the other. I was afraid he'd spontaneously combust. I did my wishful thinking activity of passing along calm, better thoughts and hoped it would work despite the consistent, brain-crushing throb of my lower limb._

The doorknob was turning. I braced myself, unsure of what to expect. My first question would be to ask where the hell I was, and if they had Dylan.

_I concentrated even harder. The pain was constant and consuming but I tried to focus all my energy on Bruce. After a moment he seemed to take a deep breath, and let the air settle in the outer reaches of his body. His shaking slowed as Dylan tried desperately to stop the bleeding of my leg. I watched his hands turn crimson as I felt consciousness seep from my body. From the corner of my now tunneling vision, I saw Bruce looking strangely down at his now almost steady hands._

A man with an eye-patch walked in the door, and I lost all preconceived notions of where I was. Definitely not a hospital, unless there was a new dress code for doctors. Questions pounded in my brain, bouncing off my skull and begging to be asked first.

_I felt the light slip away from me just as Bruce laid a hand on my shoulder._

"Miss Walker, we're glad you're awake."

His skin was dark, making his white teeth flash even brighter as he attempted to smile at me. I say attempted because it was clear he had other things on his mind.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"My name is Nick Fury, and you're currently on our Helicarrier. I know you just woke up but we have a crisis on our hands and it's come to our attention that you can be of some...secondhand assistance, if you will."

In a flash, he beckoned a nurse forward and she began to change my bandage while I stared in amazement.

"Where's Dylan?" I asked, unable to process anything that he'd just said.

"Here. Safe. A bullet grazed his own leg, but he was so in shock he hardly noticed. You caught the worst of it. But I've really just come here to talk about you."

"About me? What about me?"

"Are you aware of your empathy Miss Walker?"

"My what?"

My head hurt before, but now it was throbbing.

"We keep tabs on Bruce Banner, so for the last few weeks, we've been keeping tabs on you. I have an agent who can sense these sort of things, but it's come to our attention that you aren't fully aware of your abilities."

He studied me for a moment, but I couldn't find a single word to say. I felt like my stomach had literally dropped to my feet and I groped to understand.

"Have you ever...been the peacemaker? Resolved arguments? Been especially good at cheering someone up or making them see your side?" Fury asked, crossing his arms.

My mind raced to every moment in the last few weeks...

Dylan first bringing up Bruce. He would normally relentlessly tease me, but_I tried to imagine him being calm and collected and he stopped..._

_"The price is fixed,_" the vendor had said, but after a few moments of me smiling_, "But for you..."_

Hank stepping into my room with a knowing look on his face..."_Scarlett you are the only one that can calm them down."_

But I couldn't be whatever it was he was saying. I would know if I had abilities. It seems like something that would have come up before I was in my twenties.

"Miss Walker, you don't know a lot of things yet. But what you prevented Doctor Banner from doing...it's very rare. Almost impossible. And you can save a lot of lives if you help us."

"Where is Bruce? Is he alright?"

"He's fine. And if you'll come with me, we all need to have a nice long talk."

* * *

There was a man in a suit named Agent Coulson pushing me in a wheelchair down the corridor of something called a Helicarrier and all I could think of was how Sean would have loved it.

An avid movie watcher and fantasy reader, Sean was all about sweeping people off on adventures. I think he'd seen _Lord of the Rings_ more times than any moderately healthy human being. And here I was, a scared and unsuspecting Frodo being pushed into something I had no idea of.

I rolled my eyes at myself. I was making hobbit references in a very serious situation, but it somehow made me feel better. I twisted my silver ring on my finger and hoped that at least Sean would approve.

Still the question remained. Who was I? I had asked myself countless times since dropping out of med school, leaving my home town, and shacking up at an Indian orphanage but now it seemed even more elusive than I thought.

An empath? A mutant? I thought I was just good at reading people, than I was persuasive, but had I just been lying to myself all along? I felt like my body was betraying me, and that somehow I was trapped inside of it. I looked at my hands, my arms, my legs...it all felt the same. But now I felt like a foreigner inside of my skin.

And not to mention, where the hell was I? Who the hell were these people? Did Bruce have something to do with this secretive, strange organization?

We were about to turn the corner when I heard a very distinct, frantic voice.

"Just tell me where she is!"

We neared an open doorway, with a room exactly like mine. Empty, white, and clean. Only this one held a lanky boy and a very frustrated guard.

"Dylan?"

His face flooded with relief as he saw me and he broke through the arms of a man in the same suit as Agent Coulson, except his arms were far burlier and foreboding.

"Dyl," I said, looking up at him from my wheelchair. "Are you alright?"

"Are _you_ alright?" he asked, kneeling in front of me. "You were kind of unconscious and bloody last I saw you. And now we are god knows where with god knows who and I couldn't find you."

"We will be briefing you both," Fury declared from behind me, appearing like a shadow. "And if you don't mind, Miss Walker is late. You both can talk later."

Dylan glared at Fury and then Agent Coulson, but one look from his big guard made his shoulders slump in defeat.

"I'll find you," Dylan said, squeezing my hand. We both looked like a ragged mess with bloodshot eyes and bandaged legs, but I still found comfort in his reassurance.

I waved as Agent Coulson wheeled me away. Before I had a chance to say anything else he had paused in front of a door.

"Miss Walker, I just want to tell you that what you're about to see is classified information. We appreciate your cooperation and your silence on all you're about to see and hear."

I think I nodded at him, amidst all my swirling confusion, because he nodded himself and pushed me through the door.

I'd expected a huge room of computer monitors and people whispering secrets into phones and walkie talkies, but what I was met with was a white and windowed lab room. I thought it was empty until I noticed a familiar, hunched figure in the corner.

"Let's sit."

Fury sat at one of the two chairs near a television monitor and I wheeled myself the rest of the way. Bruce looked like he'd rather have all his teeth pulled than even look our direction, but one sharp look from Fury had him quietly lowering himself into the chair.

"How are you?" he asked, leaning toward me as Fury directed Agent Coulson to do something or other. He wasn't wearing his glasses so I could see his eyes even better. They held a mix of guilt and apprehension.

"Alright. You?" I asked.

His eyes locked onto my wheelchair and bandaged leg, but he didn't have a chance to answer before Fury started talking again.

"Alright let's dive into this Miss Walker. You see we're facing a major problem here. Crisis, actually. We're assembling a team with some of the most well-qualified men and women in the world."

"Certainly I don't fit into all that," I said, fear building with the pressure in my chest.

"In a way," Fury said, gripping the sides of his chair as he leaned toward me. "You see...your gift can be very beneficial to Bruce here, who is an integral part of the team. If you can strengthen and control it, well you'd be part of saving the world with us."

"Saving the world from what? And what's wrong with Bruce?" I asked, turning my attention to him. He looked like he was trying to sink so far into his chair that he would be a part of the metal legs.

"Bruce, would you care to show her the footage or should Agent Coulson?"

Fury's tone was not unkind, but I could sense he was a man with important things to do. His posture screamed impatience from Bruce's slow moving.

Finally, Bruce spoke, stirring his limbs with his voice almost a whisper.

"I'll do it."

* * *

Bruce left after a few minutes of me watching a large green creature yelling and destroying things. I watched him leave with a drowning feeling in my chest. I tried to take deep breaths, but nothing worked.

"That's Doctor Banner," Fury informed, pausing the clip on the creature's scowl. He was holding an uprooted tree in one hand. I just couldn't imagine that the soft-spoken doctor I knew could turn into that. "Once he gets angry or overwhelmed, he can't control his transformation, but it's been over a year without an incident. What you stopped yesterday...well let's say it could have turned out much worse. Much, _much_ worse."

"But I barely even knew I could do anything...What if it doesn't work? And what do you really want me to do?"

"We want you to control him."

I felt immediately guilt ridden at his choice of words.

"He's a human being. You're making him sound like an animal."

I crossed my arms. Whatever Bruce was...well he was still Bruce. He might have lied to me and kept me in the dark, but I couldn't believe that he was a bad person.

"He's a person, yes, but a volatile one. You've seen the impact of his destruction. We are asking you to keep everybody here safe."

I just wanted to go home. It was a feeling I hadn't had in weeks, but now I longed for my bed, my home in New York, the house that I had shared with my brother and grew up in...

"And if I say no?" I asked, tilting my chin up.

"You don't know me very well, Miss Walker," Fury said, shaking his head with a smirk. "But I don't accept no as an answer."

* * *

I was still dazed the next day. I kind of wandered around in a fog, taking breaks to rest my leg and my underarms from the crutches and then trying to move again despite the pain just to find out more about why I was here.

They had given me a room as sparsely decorated as a jail cell, but thankfully they'd included some clothes. I wasn't exactly free to roam but they told me I could visit the medical ward and Bruce's lab all I wanted. Oh, and the bathroom. I suppose that was a given, but I asked anyway. Agent Coulson didn't find it too amusing.

Dylan was being "briefed" on all that he had seen, so I wasn't allowed to see him, but I did pass the room he was going into and he tried to send me a reassuring smile.

That left me with one person to look for. I hadn't seen him since I'd witnessed his transformation second hand. It all made sense now...his claims that he wasn't "normal" and that I should stay away.

But I couldn't stay away now. And honestly, I didn't really find myself wanting to. Now that there was a part of me I wasn't exactly privy to, his own secrets didn't seem so bad. At least not as bad as he felt about them.

I passed a few agents in the hallway and was doing my best to avoid eye contact. People here kind of looked at me like a specimen and I didn't want to be classified as some sort of weapon. I was just a person who happened to be good at calming people...maybe.

I was almost to what I thought was the right door when I spotted a blonde ponytail bobbing in front of me. A perfect ponytail, with not a stray hair out of place...one that I had seen before.

"Joanna?"

She whipped around, her eyes narrowing at me before flooding with guilt that she masked in just a few seconds. I let my mouth hang open.

"What're you doing here?" I asked in confusion, before realizing she was in uniform. "Oh my god..."

"I was assigned to keep an eye on things in Calcutta," she said, her posture rigid and alert. "No hard feelings."

I could only stare at her, imagining her with the children. Who was with them now, with almost all of us here?

"So you were lying all along?"

"Not lying, per se," Joanna said, her voice even and controlled. "I was undercover."

"So you were lying."

"I was omitting certain things about myself. But you never really asked me anything anyway."

I stared at her for another few seconds, surprised she'd actually made me feel guilt in all of this.

"Right. Well I have be going now."

She turned around with a quick step and proceeded going the direction she was heading before I stopped her. I watched her disappear before pushing open the door to the lab. I felt like everyone was in on everything except me. Was Dylan involved? Because that's where I feel like I was headed with this...

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't even remember I was anxious about finding Bruce in here.

And there he was...shoulders slumped, reading data off a monitor and letting his glasses fall to the bridge of his nose. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days and his eyes were bloodshot, and I still wanted to kiss him.

He didn't register me for a few moments. Not until I accidentally moved and my crutch squeaked against the floor. He looked up sharply and almost knocked over the papers in front of him. I watched him nervously gather them together in a neat stack as I heaved myself toward the table.

"So you've been avoiding me," I noted, trying to get it all out there so we wouldn't have to face the iceberg of awkwardness standing between us.

"Not avoiding you," he muttered, barely meeting my eye. "I was saving you the trouble of avoiding me."

"Why would I avoid you?"

He looked at me like I had grown a second head and was now speaking a foreign language out of it.

"I can think of one thing," he said, rubbing his temples. "And it's big and green."

"Everyone has flaws," I said, trying to get him to smile. If I could just get him to smile, I knew I could ease the tension.

"I'm a monster." Bruce looked up, his brown eyes finally linking with my own.

"I'm a Leo."

"I'm not joking."

"I am. I'm actually a Gemini."

Bruce shook his head at me and I realized he actually believed all that. I searched for a chair, realizing this would take longer than I thought. Bruce followed my line of vision and pulled over a stool, the sound echoing in the room.

"They want you to babysit me," he said, rolling his eyes. "They're afraid I'm going to kill everyone here. They...they built me a cage. Do you know what it's like to be afraid of yourself?"

His question hung in the air between us, so thick that I thought I could reach out and touch it. I wanted to yell at him for bringing me into this, but for some inexplicable reason, I wanted to make him feel better too.

"You...it's just a part of you," I assured, lowering myself down with a thud. "Hey, I just found out I have all these abilities but I'm trying to still be myself. And that's all I can do..."

"Your abilities don't make you a danger to everyone, Scarlett. I have intense psychological issues, can turn into a gigantic green beast at any moment, and harbor a lot of bitterness. I'm not going to drag you into all that." He leaned forward, his hands brushing my knee. "_Again_."

He stared at my bandage forlornly and I grabbed his hand, squeezing it quickly before dropping it and forcing him to meet my eyes.

"You're not dragging me into anything." Well, maybe I was a little coerced but what else was I doing? Might as well help the world if I had the opportunity... "I agreed to it. And if you haven't noticed I have some bad psychological issues myself, half a medical degree, horrible nightmares and am a newly recognized mutant."

Bruce looked at me, a smirk almost finding its way on his face.

"When you put it that way...we both actually appear to need quite a bit of therapy."

I grinned. It was the first time that I felt alright since I'd gotten here, and definitely the first time I'd smiled in days.

"I still don't want you involved," Bruce said, his own small smile fading to a frown. "I can't believe I managed to get you tangled up in this."

"Quick question—what is _this_?"

I looked around at the lab and saw people walking down the hallway, one with fiery red hair and the other with dark facial hair.

"I'll explain what I know," Bruce said lowly, frowning at me. "I just...still can't believe you're here. You're handling it surprisingly well."

"Well, I can't go anywhere," I said, straightening my spine as I leaned my crutches against the table. "So we might as well make the best of it."

* * *

_I had this planned from the beginning, but wanted it to be kind of a surprise. Sorry if anyone finds it outlandish, but hey...it's fanfiction. Roll with it. ;) _

_P.S. Reviews are loved._

_P.P.S. My new goal is longer chapters. Hope everyone likes it!_


	8. Chapter 8

**"I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil."**

― J.R.R. Tolkien

* * *

I hadn't dreamed of that night in a long time. I'd seen it in the day, of course, because it only took a moment for it to be painted on my eyelids, but nighttime always brought it back full force. And when it did, I could feel it everywhere.

_I don't think I even registered the car coming, but Sean was quicker than I was. I was frozen in place, watching the tires skid across the black asphalt and onto the sidewalk. I would have been struck directly in the chest if Sean hadn't pushed me away, his palms warm even through my shirt and his force more than I expected._

_I think I cried out, but it was drowned out by the screeching that would in the future make me cringe every time a car skidded to a halt. I heard the bump afterward, and tried to convince my mind that it was a statue or a stop sign or an animal._

_It was stupid, but the first thing I noticed when I stood up was that I'd crushed my ice cream cone in my hand. I could feel the vanilla rivers bleeding through my fingertips, and then I felt the pain shooting up the arm I was holding it in. I was covered in dirt and ice cream and blood and couldn't see my brother._

_Why couldn't I see him?_

_I realized I was crying. I realized that I was screaming. I realized that the driver of the car was screaming as well, except I couldn't hear her words. She'd stopped when she hit a tree, one of the big leafy oaks that had been here since I was little. There were leaves and twigs everywhere._

_She was so young._

_Her hair was blonde and messy and thrown into a bun that fell down her shoulders when she threw open her door. She couldn't stay on her feet, and I knew she'd been drinking._

_It was strange, but all I could think was that her life was over._

_And then I heard Sean._

_I was a med school student. I was going to be a doctor. I could save him. I repeated it over and over as I stumbled to him. He was in front of the car. That's why I couldn't see him. He was between the car and the tree, and my brother was not on his feet, my brother was stuck between metal and nature and everything was wrong wrong wrong, and why did he push me? _

_I knew the names of bones, I knew the names of wild diseases, I knew the treatments for breaks and sprains and failing organs. I was going to be a doctor. I could save him._

_"Are you alright?"_

_The stupid boy, the stupid boy with the innocent eyes but the knowing grin, the stupid boy who I read books to before bed, the stupid boy who was never embarrassed of me, even with his friends, even when he was a teenager, the stupid boy asked **me** if I was alright when he was pinned together with a car._

_I could hear the girl on her cell phone, so at least she had some semblance of the right thing to do, but I was staring at Sean with his blood-streaked face and limp arms and legs that I couldn't see beneath metal that was so shiny it was a shame that it was so crooked and twisted._

_"I'm fine you idiot," I said, my words jumbled and frantic, "How are you? Can you feel it? Can you move your legs?"_

_He shook his head, his hair matted with sweat so it didn't sway like it usually did. I realized that my panic had muted his calm. I was going to be a doctor. I could save him. I needed to be assuring._

_"You're going to be okay," I told him, squeezing his sweaty hand and trying to keep my voice even. "It's not that bad."_

_"I feel kind of numb."_

_"That's normal, just shock, your body's way of protecting you. The ambulance is on the way, and hopefully you'll get sedated and you won't ever have to feel anything."_

_But I didn't hear the sirens yet. I knew it had only been minutes, if not seconds, but it felt like I'd been standing here for hours and where the hell was everybody? Why had the world not stopped to help when my world was falling apart?_

_"I should..." I trailed off, thinking of what I could possibly do, and then thinking that I'd have to see it in order to be any sort of help. "I'm going to try and take a look."_

_Sean didn't respond but I squeezed his hand again and took a breath and hoped that I wouldn't vomit as I looked to where a car had severed my brother's body._

_I was going to be a doctor. _

_I could save him._

_I could save him._

_I could save him._

* * *

We were in an empty room. I hadn't slept much after my dream, so I probably had dark circles under my red-rimmed eyes. I purposely didn't look too closely in the mirror, and Dylan had seen worse.

My stomach jolted when he came in. For some reason, it didn't cross my mind that he wouldn't be able to stay with me. That brought the total amount of people I knew here to one.

Dylan smiled sadly as he stood beside me, tapping my chin.

"I wish you could stay."

"I gotta get outta here, kid. Not all of us are quite such a wanted commodity."

"They told you?"

I didn't know how he'd react to finding out about my...mutant-ness. I didn't even know how I felt about it. I knew a lot of people in this world were sensitive or downright angry about such issues, and Dylan was never that type, but I was still nervous.

"They told me as little as possible. Basically that you're good with calming people down?" He winked and I felt relief flood my chest. "How come you never told me?"

"I didn't know. It's weird really, thinking back...certain things make sense. I thought it was just my spectacular charm."

Dylan smiled, but for once didn't have a snarky comment back. He reached forward and pulled me to him. I almost stumbled with my bad leg, but kept my crutches in tact as I inhaled. He didn't smell like himself, but he was still Dylan, and I squeezed back.

"I don't want you to leave."

"I have to get back to the kids," he said, pulling back but keeping his arms draped around my neck. "And they probably aren't too keen about keeping useless people on board."

"I'm scared."

He put his hands on my shoulders now, the flecks in his eyes showing in the light.

"They can't make you do anything you don't want to, Scar. But if I know you, I know you want to help people. Just...do your best."

I thought of my brother. I'd done my best that day...

"What if my best is the worst?" I asked, my mouth feeling dry and my eyes feeling wet.

"It's not," Dylan said firmly. "This will be over before you know it and we'll go home together, _real_ home." He grinned now, trying to reassure me. "This is the fanciest, scariest, most legitimate place I've ever seen. And I think the people here match that. They'll come out on top. Just don't get yourself in too much trouble, okay?"

His tone was subdued, but I could sense the anxiety behind it. Here was the boy who just days before was going to fight Bruce Banner over hurting my feelings.

"What if I fail everyone?" I whispered, knowing that even a false comfort from Dylan was still a comfort.

He saw through it, echoing my every fear and bringing my dream back into the present.

"You didn't fail Sean, Scarlett. He died. He wanted to save you, and now you get to save all these people."

I couldn't speak anymore. I just pressed my head to his chest and he kissed the top of my head before pulling away. Without my knowledge, an agent had appeared behind us, his stance ready to move.

Dylan waved half-heartedly and nodded at the agent who spun on his heel.

"Be careful, Scar. If you can, call me."

I nodded at him as he turned away.

"Dyl?" I called, just as he reached the door.

He looked back at me with his eyebrows raised.

"Can you write my mom?"

"Of course. What should I say?"

Don't tell her where I am...just..." I trailed off. "Say I'm alright and I miss home."

"Alright, I will." He smiled sadly, but nodded his head.

"And Dyl?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell her I love her."

* * *

"Anger."

It was harder than I thought when I was thinking about it. It was like bottling the clench of a jaw and the pressure in your chest. It was harnessing a feeling, something that you understood when you felt it but was harder to describe, and even harder to emulate with just a word as inspiration.

"Focus on memories, if that helps. Moments you've felt anger. Then push it toward me."

Agent Hallows was nice enough, if not a little demanding. Agent Romanoff had accompanied me here, who despite her good looks and rough exterior actually made me feel a little more at ease. She'd introduced Agent Hallows who barely said hello before he pushed me into practice. I noticed Agent Romanoff smirk as she left.

I guess we were under a limited time frame, considering the whole Loki and cube business was sort of happening as we spoke.

"You're not focusing, are you, Miss Walker?"

"Scarlett," I corrected, again, seeing his mouth quirk up as I said it automatically.

"Use the anger you're feeling toward me, Miss Walker."

I rolled my eyes and did as he said, imagining swirling memories of fights and silent treatments as a cloud and pushing it toward his body.

"Good. Although I don't know if that's from you or my own frustration."

I frowned at his almost then not quite compliment and shifted in my seat. My crutches were leaning against the table in between us, but my leg still ached. They had decreased my dosage as not to interfere with my abilities, and I was feeling it.

"Happiness."

That one wasn't as easy to conjure up memories for. I delved into my past, because that's where most of those feelings were for me. I thought of carnivals and birthdays and my college graduation. I thought of Dylan throwing my hat in the air at the after party. I thought of Sean giving me a toast about med school. And without really meaning to, I thought of kissing Bruce.

It was harder to push it this time, because I'd tried so hard with anger. I could feel beads of sweat gather on my forehead. It didn't help that I was staring at Agent Hallows and he had absolutely no expression on his face. None. Just blank, dark eyes and a skinny, straight mouth.

"Alright," he said, shrugging. "I don't feel overjoyed, but I don't feel sad either."

"You asked for happiness, not overjoyed," I growled, wiping my face.

"I'm doing this for own good, Miss Walker," Agent Hallows said, leaning forward in his seat. He was wearing a suit and his tie dragged on the table as he spoke. "They're going after Loki as we speak, so we need to be ready for anything."

"I'm not complaining," I said, straightening my spine and ignoring the jolts up pain up my leg.

"Good. Now...grief."

That one was easy. I didn't have to think of any memories, because I carried grief in my bones.

Agent Hallows face changed then. It was no longer blank and stoic, but twisted into a frown. I saw him take a deep breath and hold up his hand to stop.

"Good. That was...strong."

I looked away from his imploring gaze. He was taking pity on me, I could feel it. My mind flickered to my dream. The worst feeling of it was the hope that I had every time I dreamed. Because no matter how much I knew the outcome, for one split second, my mind convinces me that I could do something.

"Miss Walker—"

"Excuse me."

I didn't know if it was allowed, but I fled the room, passing a guard at the door as I went. I guess I needed a babysitter these days, but he didn't follow me at least. I went as fast as I could with my crutches, but pretty soon I felt my lungs constrict and nausea rise in my stomach.

I pressed my head against the wall and squeezed my eyes shut. My nerves jumped when my crutches clattered to the floor, but pretty soon I slid down beside them.

I don't know how I long I sat there. It was hard to measure time when you could barely breathe. My vision swirled, but with all the white and glass walls, I just felt blinded. I closed my eyes more often than not, but I couldn't feel grounded.

I was sweating and gaping when someone touched my arm.

"Scarlett?"

Bruce was awkward and concerned and unshaven and perfect. It made my breathing even worse.

"What can I do?"

I shook my head. I didn't know—I couldn't think. I wanted off this flying capsule of imminent doom, I wanted to go home, I wanted to sleep in my bed and feel sorry for myself.

Scarlett didn't look so good. She was pale and shining with sweat and Bruce thought her chest would cave in from her breathing so hard. He wanted to help her—to dose her with something, rock her back and forth, but he couldn't think of what to do.

Her eyes were wide and scared.

"Slap her."

Bruce looked up at the voice above them, which belonged to Natasha. Her face was determined and her tone forceful.

"I am _not_ going to slap her," Bruce hissed, looking back at Scarlett.

To his surprise and dread, Scarlett nodded at him. Her eyes were pleading—bright green and pleading and he was not immune to them in any sense.

So, with as little force as possible and gathering pain in his stomach, he slapped her.

She looked surprised, but the panic dropped from her face. She stopped shaking too, and his guilt hit him full force when he realized the color was returning the cheek he had touched.

"I am so so _so_ sorry," he said, grabbing her face in his hands.

And then she did something he didn't expect.

She laughed.

"I can't...believe...you did that," she choked out.

He dropped his hands and gaped at her. He had just slapped her—slapped her for god sakes, and she was laughing at him. He felt guilt and amusement mingled in one.

"You told me to!"

"I didn't think you would!"

Natasha shook her head behind them.

"I've got to go. We're sending out the Captain."

Bruce was vaguely aware of her walking away, but he was still focused on Scarlett's ringing laughter. He had never heard her laugh much more than a chuckle, and it was strong and infectious.

"You're not mad?" he asked tentatively.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I needed that. And I needed this."

She was still chuckling. And then, because there was nothing else to do, and the guilt was turning to warmth, he joined her.

* * *

_Sorry this took so long! I had a bit of writer's block. Forgive me? :)_

_P.S. Thank you to all guests/anonymous reviewers who I can't answer with a message! You are all amazing._


	9. Chapter 9

**"I want to say somewhere: I've tried to be forgiving. And yet. There were times in my life, whole years, when anger got the better of me. Ugliness turned me inside out. There was a certain satisfaction in bitterness. I courted it. It was standing outside, and I invited it in."**

-Nicole Krauss

* * *

"They want you to wear this. In case...we're not together and an incident occurs."

I looked down at the thing in Bruce's hands. It looked like a watch, except the face was entirely blank. It had black links on the band and green buttons on both sides of the rectangular display.

"What does it do?"

"It will send off an alarm and blink my location. There will be an agent to escort you if you don't know the way."

Bruce's voice was low and his expression guarded, but I could only imagine the embarrassment he was feeling at having to give me a device to keep tabs on him. It was kind of hard to strike up a friendly mood when one party was being monitored by the other.

"I won't track you," I said, pushing his hands away.

"If you act like an animal they tend to treat you like one," he said, putting it on the table and pushing it toward me.

My stomach turned at his sharp tone but I almost laughed. He was such a genius but he was so fixated on his flaws.

"You don't act like an animal," I asserted. I moved closer to him, curling his fingers shut and letting my hands linger. "You haven't even had an incident in a year."

He smelled like usual, a sort of soapy spice and I was close enough to look up and count his eyelashes. His gaze was narrowed and that made his lashes look even longer as he stared at me through half-lidded eyes.

"That could change at any time."

Now his hands were at his sides, but so close to my hips that I could feel their warmth through my jeans.

"So could anything."

I swallowed, knowing that if I moved an inch I would hit his chest. My rational senses were quickly leaving me, being replaced by the short breathing and rib-cage bending feeling that a certain doctor inflicted upon me.

It was just like in Calcutta, except this time I wasn't quite caught off guard. It was more like unbelievable contentment coupled with mild surprise coupled with every nerve in my body suddenly feeling alert.

I twisted his hair in my fingers and he twisted my shirt in his. My lower back was on fire from his palms, but it was nothing in comparison to my face. My cheeks were flushed and my ears flooding with warmth. I moved my hands down to Bruce's face, my fingers resting on his stubble. I almost knocked his glasses off but angled myself better, ignoring the pain in my leg because there was no way I would be taking a sit-down now.

I almost forgot we were in the lab. I usually felt vulnerable in there, with all the windows, but now I just felt happy and secure and right.

...Until Bruce pulled away. _Again_.

"Scarlett...I can't—we can't—do this." Bruce's breathing was heavy, making his words hit me even harder.

My brain was slow in recovering, so I'm pretty sure my response came out in a half-whine.

"Why not?"

"Do you need me to list the reasons?" he asked, his movements harried as he put considerable distance between us.

"No, but I have a feeling you will..." I muttered, my body calming down after the quick rush from pleasure to disappointment.

"I am much older than you. I am dangerous. If you're with me, you have no chance for a normal life, and I won't do that to you."

"And if I don't care about those things?"

"_I_ care about them. Enough for both of us."

I let my stomach settle, except it didn't exactly fit back into any sort of normalcy. It was more like being on the brink of a stomach ache, and my chest ached right alongside it. With a sagging spine and a sudden need to be anywhere else, I fled the room.

* * *

"You're not listening to your instincts."

"You should be happy that my instincts are not to hit you."

Joanna rolled her eyes at me for the fourteenth time today. Since the bullet had passed through and thankfully not hit anything vital, I was now sans crutches but also limping. And in the world of S.H.I.E.L.D. that was apparently the cue to get in on the action.

Unfortunately, limping was not exactly the best state to be in when you're leaning self-defense.

"Do you need another break?" Joanna asked, her usual blonde ponytail morphed into a bun today as she gestured to the chair a few feet away from me.

"No, I'm fine."

She tossed me a water bottle and I chugged down half of it before she took it back to place on the floor beside her limp blue bag. Its strangled fabric was how all my muscles felt.

"Remember, you're learning the basics. Just trust yourself...depending on what position your attacker is in depends on where you strike. The eyes and nose are vulnerable on the face. The knee and other...sensitive regions for men are best below the belt."

"And what exactly do you mean by sensitive regions?" I asked innocently, blinking up at her.

She glared, and as had become her routine, ignored me. I smirked, taking in small amusements by bothering her. It made me feel better after learning she'd been spying on us. And maybe I wasn't in such a great mood since Bruce's valiant but stupid denial of our relationship.

"Alright, so let's imagine I'm attacking you from the front..."

She swooped at me, her reflexes unsurprisingly faster than mine. She was slender and light on her feet. I was a clumsy mess. I deflected her punch barely, tried not to move my injured leg too much, and may have barely grazed her shoulder with my ill-timed hit.

"Leverage your weight better. You're small so you need to maximize your force as much as possible."

We both turned to see Steve standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. I fixed him with a look of curiosity.

"I used to be shorter," he shrugged, walking into the room.

"Then I'll take what you had," I grumbled, moving over to the sanctuary of my chair.

He laughed, shaking his head.

"What brings you here Captain?" Joanna asked, her alert mode already flashing as she checked her many gadgets. "Is something going on?"

"No, just passing by."

I watched him move into the room, eyeing the punching bags in the corner. He shuffled slowly, his movements slow but deliberate. I was about to ask him if he'd prefer to fight Joanna when a new voice sounded from the doorway.

"Agent Gray."

This time, it was an agent in the hallway. Agent Coulson, to be specific, in his usual pressed suit and tie. His nametag fluttered as he moved closer to us.

"Yes sir?" Joanna said, snapping to attention as her cheeks flooded with even more color.

"Fury's having a quick meeting. Can you be ready in five minutes?"

"I'm ready now," Joanna chirped. "I just need to change."

Joanna grabbed her bag with lightning speed.

"Miss Walker," Coulson nodded, "Sorry to steal her."

"Steal away. My muscles thank you."

"And Captain. I'll see you later?" Coulson asked.

"Erm, yes," Steve responded, nodding his head.

I sank even farther into my chair and watched Joanna stuff her belongings into her bag. I had become better at reading emotions ever since realizing I could influence them. That, or it was painfully obvious. Either way, I felt my first pang of sympathy for Joanna Gray as she followed out Agent Coulson, quick and red-eared. No doubt their jobs made anything between them a sticky situation. I couldn't even tell if he reciprocated. He was quite hard to read...like some other people I knew.

I was pulled out of my musings by Steve. This was one of our first conversations, but he had an earnestness around him that I felt comforting. Plus, he was easy to talk to and that was welcome after a morning with a grumpy Bruce.

"Do you mind if I take over? Maybe show you some stuff with the punching bags?" he asked, rubbing his neck. "I feel a little useless around all the computers upstairs."

I grinned. While Bruce fiddled with gadgets and spewed data this morning, Steve and I had played cards. It was easy to get lost in all that science, even if you were from _this_ generation.

"If you promise to take it easy on me."

"I make no such promise, soldier."

I smiled. He was already working out much better than Joanna.

"Alright," I clamored to my feet. "As a former member of the scrappy club, let's see what you've got."

* * *

"You can do something you know. You're staring—it's making me nervous."

"I would, Purple Shirt," I said, trying to be as normal as possible around him. "But I actually, _physically_, cannot move."

"Why?" Bruce asked sharply, looking up at me over his orange device. "Is your leg bothering you?"

"Not too much. I've been...training."

"Yeah...with emotions, right?" Bruce's nose wrinkled. "Agent Hallows explained some of it to me."

"Yes..." I answered slowly, suddenly feeling that I could get a little revenge from my hurt by riling him. "Plus the other training."

Bruce looked up at me. I bristled at his stare, because there has never been such...scrutiny in it before. At least not toward me.

"What other training?" He rubbed his temples. "Scar..."

That did it. He'd never called me by a nickname before. I was weak for that, and there went my attitude...

"I'm just learning some self-defense," I spewed, looking away. "It's good for me, really, just in case. You can never over-protect yourself you know."

"You won't need to protect yourself," he said, narrowing his eyes and dropping his voice. "If I ever...if you can't stop me, you get out of there. I don't care what the situation is. You know that right?"

"I don't think that's what they had in mind," I said quietly, inspecting the screens and calibrations that whirred around me instead of looking at his face.

"What did they have in mind? Are they expecting you to fight?" he asked, his voice rising in volume and intensity.

"No—"

"—Wait, wait, wait," a voice said, entering the room. I looked up to see a man with dark eyes and a long-sleeve shirt holding his hands up. He pulled over the stool beside mine and leaned on the table, holding his chin between his hands. "Continue."

I frowned and Bruce ran a hand through his hair. Since he was clearly not going to say anything and I felt halted in my speech, I spoke.

"Who are you?"

"This is Tony Stark," Bruce mumbled. "We stumbled upon him recently."

"Actually I stumbled upon you, saved the Captain, helped capture Loki, and now am here to help Mr. Green and Mean locate the Tesseract." He shrugged. "But that's just logistics."

I flailed again. My mind was still whirring with debate and this guy's fast talking wasn't calming me down.

"I'm Scarlett Walker," I finally said, slinking into the chair beside him. My leg thanked me as I leaned on the counter. I guess Bruce and I were done with our conversation. And our hashing it out. And any sort of relationship that we would ever have...

"Agent?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," I breathed.

"Scientist?"

"No."

Doctor?"

"No..."

"They let you bring your girlfriend on board?" he asked, turning to Bruce. "If so, I need to make a very quick phone call..."

"I'm a consultant," I cut in, saving Bruce (and myself) the discomfort of him denying that. "Sort of."

Tony opened his mouth again but Bruce cut him off, beckoning him over to one of his monitors.

"Tony," he said, gesturing to the screen. "We're calibrating the gamma rays..."

I tuned out after that, twirling the ring on my finger and counting the wrinkles on my finger joints. Anything to not hear this explanation again. I faded in and out of what they were talking about, hearing fragments of sciency-talk, and clenching my jaw every time I heard the word 'gamma'. It only reminded me of Bruce's condition and how it destroyed every semblance of his self-worth.

Well, what about my self-worth? It was really being tested here. Next to Natasha, I looked like an ugly stick with hair and Bruce's second rejection really did me in. Apparently, I was not meant to have what I wanted.

I tuned back in when Tony mentioned Bruce visiting Stark Towers. I couldn't imagine Bruce in the city. Both of my parents worked in the city and I'd seen the jutting building just a few months ago. It was hard to believe the man it was named for was standing in front of me. His arrogance somehow suited him.

"Last time I was in New York, I kind of broke...Harlem," Bruce muttered.

My eyes flitted back to him and I watched in shock as Tony pricked him in the back. As Bruce jumped, I grinned. Usually everyone walked on eggshells around him...It was nice to have someone treat him with aggression. Like I wanted to.

As if on cue with my thoughts, Steve happened to walk in at that very moment.

"Hey, are you nuts?"

Steve was so rarely angry, I watched in fascination as he fought with Tony. Bruce remained pretty calm the whole time. I grew bitter—he could so fine around them talking about his condition, but when I want a quick kiss, it's too much? _Not very fair._ Maybe everything with Sean had been a warning. _You are miserable and you will stay that way, so get used to it..._

"You've really got a lid on it," Tony remarked, breaking me once again from my mind rant. "What's your secret? Mello jazz? Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed?"

I smiled internally, despite all my negative thoughts. How many people could say they were here—among actual, real superheroes, helping save the world? Or at least witnessing it? I could deal with Bruce and his nagging desire to "save" me from himself later.

I heard the rush of air that accompanied the door sliding open and saw Agent Romanoff in her tight black suit. To my surprise, her eyes didn't fall on one of the men in the room, but instead locked on me.

"Scarlett, we're calling you up."

"Um," I stuttered, suddenly aware of my saliva. "What exactly do you mean by that?" Panic was already filling like a balloon in my chest.

"I'm going to talk to Loki," she said, "Fury figures if you set a..._calm_ mood Loki will be looser with his tongue."

"What if he realizes and isn't quite happy about it?" I asked nervously. I felt foolish for seconds ago amping myself up about bravery and world-saving opportunities. Here was a chance to actually do something and I felt like emptying my stomach in a waste receptacle.

"Don't worry about that," Bruce said, his voice quiet but firm. "He's in the cage they built for me."

His cynicism was wearing on me, but I didn't have the time or patience to deal with it right now. And from the looks of it, neither did Natasha. She flitted her eyes toward the door and turned on her heel.

I bit my lip as Bruce turned his back. Tony fixed me with a curious look. I reached for the device near his hand, fastening it on my wrist.

"So you're the secret," Tony smirked, crossing his arms.

"A human bag of weed," I grinned weakly, echoing his previous sentiments. "Wish me luck."

* * *

_Aiming to break 100 reviews! Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who leaves 'em. ;) _

_P.S. All recognizable dialogue is obviously not mine, despite my wildest dreams._

_P.P.S. I'm accelerating her healing time for her leg. Defy reality! _


	10. Chapter 10

**"I don't want to be in a battle, but waiting on the edge of one I can't escape is even worse."**

-Lord of the Rings

* * *

Quick note: Lots of movie dialogue in this one! I've been trying to avoid it, but it was a pretty pivotal scene to just be making up my own stuff. So obviously all that's not mine, and there may be some errors with words. Anyways, here's a quick lil update!

* * *

I thought about Loki. What I knew about him. And the only time I'd seen him, just yesterday, as he walked down the halls.

_In ways, it looked like a prison in here. The slightly sloped walls, although not dark, gave off a sense of gloominess that even the thin beams of fluorescent lights couldn't brighten._

_I happened to look up. I'm not sure why, because agents passed by all the time. But the moment I did, I saw Loki being marched down the glassed hallways._

_And he smiled._

_It was right at Bruce, eerily and long, like he knew something we didn't. It made the blood in my veins turn to ice water._

_"What was that about?" I asked, subconsciously leaning toward Bruce as he rubbed his head._

_"I don't know."_

"And what are we trying to find out exactly?" I asked, feeling like stones were filling my stomach.

Every step seemed more and more official. Natasha, in her black suit, kept her eyes forward but I looked at every agent we passed. They were serious, firm, and direct, and I was just sloppy and nervous.

"Anything," Natasha answered, "We think that he allowed himself to get captured a little too willingly."

"And he really can't get out of wherever he is?"

"He really can't."

"And we're just heading there now? No preparation or anything?"

"We have one pit stop to make."

"What's that?"

She paused, looking me up and down.

"You'll need a suit."

I paused, looking at hers.

"No that's really alright…" I said, putting my hands up.

"Loki will wonder why a random girl in jeans and a sloppy bun is standing behind me."

I looked down at my clothes, slightly rumpled from sitting in a lab chair for the past few hours. I had taken a shower after my workout session with Steve, so at least my hair was...clean.

"It's an artful bun," I insisted.

She rolled her eyes and paused in front of room.

"It's just for a little while."

She was placating me, but at least she wasn't being mean about it. So a few moments, some harsh tugs, and a very self-conscious zip-up later I was in a suit that was quite like Natasha's...minus the weaponry. To say that we didn't look the same in it would be an under-exaggeration. India had made me lose some weight, but I was lacking in some other places.

With reluctance, I walked, or limped, toward the door. I wondered if the tightness of the suit would reopen my wound. The door slid open with a whoosh of air and I peered in both directions, not exiting the room. Natasha raised an eye at me, my body still half hidden.

"Oh no..." I cried, widening my eyes. "We're wearing the same outfit! We should have coordinated better. You know what, I'll just take this off—"

"You're coming," Natasha declared, tapping her foot on the floor.

"I look like a thirteen year old boy."

She smirked.

"At least your voice isn't cracking."

I had no choice but to follow her. Her pace was brisk, but she slowed it slightly after seeing my pathetic gait. I wished I was as strong as she was. She didn't even have a hair out of place, and my insides were on the verge of combusting.

"So why did they send you?" I asked, hoping any conversation would dull the ringing of my eras. "Is this your...speciality?"

"I'm good at getting things out of people." She smirked. "I'm also observant, which most people underestimate."

I couldn't help it. I was surrounded by official people and I was curious to know what they thought about the recent empath addition to their little group.

"What have you observed about me?" I asked, my voice sounding shy to my own ears.

"Are you sure you wanna know?" she asked, peering down at me through her eyelashes. I noticed a glimmer in her eyes.

"Yes," I said, although I wasn't quite sure if that was true.

"You're skeptical around here," she said, punching in a code that allowed us into another, narrower hallway. "Don't know who to trust—that's why you're sarcastic with all of the agents."

I swallowed. So far, that was right. I hadn't even noticed how I had been with the guards, but it did make sense...something about Agent Hallows and Gray did bring out the snarky side of me.

"You do trust Bruce though," she continued, the shadow of a smile on her face. "And although you doubt your abilities, you're not afraid of him. But still...you're nervous about what's going to happen here. You're biting your fingernails, twirling your ring on your finger, and not eating much."

"I...yes..." I stuttered, unable to find a proper response.

"You try to hide it though. You want to fight back, so you're always on time for training, you don't have trouble sleeping, and you went against your better judgment to come here."

"Wow...that_ is_ observant." A little too observant. A little too true. I felt horrifically transparent, but slightly better at the same time. I did want to fight back, she had noticed, so hopefully she had some sort of respect for me.

"It comes with the territory," she shrugged. "We need to be observant in there too. Anything you see or hear can help us."

I didn't even notice we'd arrived where we needed to be. Natasha had clicked in another code, nodded at an agent, and had gotten some sort of fingerprint clearance. There was still a large, black door looming in front of us but she paused before we entered.

"This could go a lot of ways. If I give you this signal," she said, holding her hand behind her back with her index finger pointing down, "Get out. There will be agent at the door to escort you back."

"And what if he talks to me?" I asked, knowing that I wasn't the best of liars, especially to a villain who could control people far stronger than me.

"We'll keep you out of sight as much as possible—you'll be near the door. If he notices you, which he might, just say you're security detail."

I nodded. Already this was becoming too much for me, but I wasn't going to say that to Natasha. She was the one with the hard job, after all, and I was just the pathetic one who was afraid to hide in the corner.

"Alright. Let's go in."

I stopped at the door, like Natasha said to, and she treated me like wallpaper which I suppose was part of the plan. It was strange in here, like a warehouse, except in the middle of the grating there was a large glass chamber on a platform. I didn't look over the edge but I assumed there was some sort of plummet underneath. The railings didn't provide as much comfort as I hoped, and I was happy I was very far from them.

And then I remembered this was where they were going to keep Bruce.

Guilt swelled inside of me. He didn't want to be in a relationship, but he was still a good person, and it was so wrong that he had such a dangerous part inside of him. How would it have been, I wondered, if I met him before? Would he be different? Would he be any more inclined to have a relationship with me?

I was knocked out of my thoughts by the voices. Unlike with Joanna's feelings for Agent Coulson, Loki's weren't quite as obvious. But from his expression, I could sense a few things.

Most of all, I was scared by his amusement. He smiled at Natasha like he did at Bruce, like they were all friends or like this was all just a laughable affair. And like earlier, I found myself shivering at his dark, slender frame. I couldn't see his eyes from here, but I remembered them staring at Bruce, piercing through the walls.

"There's not many people that could sneak up on me."

I watched as Loki turned to face Natasha.

"But you figured I'd come."

She was calm and collected. I, however, was not, and Loki's next comment threw my stomach upside down.

"And who else have you brought with you today? She's very quiet, but not quite invisible."

"She's security detail. You're just talking to me."

This place would give me ulcers.

Loki turned to smile at me. I could barely focus on remaining upright when he looked so...happy about something. I remembered that I was there for a reason, and tried to take some deep breaths and channel my empathy. Agent Hallows had told me focus on memories or intense feelings so I thought of relaxing and reading a good book and sent those calm feelings at Loki...but it was what Natasha said next that surprised me, enough to make me lose my concentration.

"I want to know what you've done to Agent Barton."

I thought of the little knowledge I knew about this man—only that he was called 'Hawkeye' and that he was under Loki's control. He'd been included in the explanation that S.H.I.E.L.D. had briefly given me.

"I'd say I've expanded his mind," Loki answered.

I'd give it to Natasha—whatever the hell she was doing, she was hiding it. Even I couldn't tell if this was where the conversation was supposed to be doing, or if she had some sort of associations with this man. I shook my head a little and focused on the gathering ball of warmth in my stomach. Sometimes feelings felt that way, like temperatures, and sometimes I liked to imagine them as colors that I was pushing along, painting other people's bodies with.

Loki didn't seem to notice. He already seemed calm, but in a way that scared me. In a way that didn't seem to realize he was the one on the inside of the cage.

"And once you've won, once you're king of the mountain, what happens to his mind?" Natasha asked, crossing her arms as she moved closer.

"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"

Quite ironically, I was starting to have the same question. But Natasha's answer seemed poised and ready.

"Love is for children, I owe him a debt."

"Tell me."

This time, I pushed even harder. Loosening of the tongue wasn't exactly an emotion, but I tried to send a mixed vulnerability toward Loki, one that would hopefully make him more willing to share his plans. With gathering dread, I watched his body turn.

"But before that, do tell me just what your...security detail is trying to do."

"She's a new agent, Loki. Do you really think she can do anything?"

Natasha sent me the signal, her index finger placed firmly down. I wished I could read minds just then, to ask her if she meant it, if she'd be alright, but I figured she had it well under control.

"Before I worked for SHIELD I...uh...well, made a name for myself," I heard Natasha begin.

Torn between the desire to flee and the curiosity to stay, I slowly backed out of the room. Natasha's voice slipped away until the door slid back shut and I couldn't hear or see her anymore.

Agent Hallows was on the other side. After Natasha's keen observation of me, I felt slightly guilty I had been so snotty to him. I would have apologized, but I couldn't stop the spinning of my head.

"How's it going in there?" he asked.

"I honestly don't know."

"Would you like me to escort you somewhere?"

"The nearest bed please," I said, rubbing my temples. My head was pounding...my skull even. I had never...tried quite so hard to affect somebody, and Loki's cool indifference wasn't exactly my idea of success. If anything, it was Natasha who seemed the most vulnerable in the situation. I'd hoped that I hadn't misdirected my signals. Was that even possible?

Black spots were circling in my eyes.

Agent Hallows started to lead me down the hall. Like before, I barely paid attention to the high security measures except to register that we were passing through them. Agent Hallows must be higher up than I thought.

The black spots got worse as we twisted down a hallway.

"I think I need to sit down a minute, Agent Hallows."

"Are you alright Miss Walker?"

"Just...gonna sit," I said, sliding down the wall and putting my head between my knees.

I needed to stop doing this. My body was aching. The walls were no longer supporting the ceilings but were pretty good place holders for my body. Agent Hallows looked concerned, but I waved him off.

The dizziness would pass...I hoped.

"I'm going to get someone. Stay here."

Noted. As if I could move, anyway. I listened as his footsteps faded. They were in tune with the beating of my heart that currently felt like it was reverberating in my mind. I didn't even know where I was so I'd be pretty dependent on him coming back.

Minutes passed. I hadn't heard footsteps in a long time. There were less sounds here, so I guessed we were in a more intimate part of the ship. It made sense, to keep Loki as far from people as possible. But the quiet was actually not comforting me.

And then, just as my dizziness started to pass, and my cheeks didn't feel quite so hot, and my head still hurt but not in a crippling way, I heard a sound that made my heart stop.

A frantic beeping...coming from my wrist.


	11. Chapter 11

**"Men's actions are too strong for them. Show me a man who has acted, and who has not been the victim and slave of his action."**

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

* * *

I might as well have been in a labyrinth, with all my knowledge of how this stupid place worked. I blamed all the agents—they escorted me to my power training, my training with Joanna, meetings with Fury...I should have paid better attention, but I let them guide me through the sleek corridors with their fancy sliding doors and security and monotonous colors that made everything look _exactly the same. _My heart thudded as I took a moment just to look around, beeping making the blood pulse in my ears.

It just would have been too simple for there to be a GPS on this stupid thing.

It seemed to beat faster than I could walk, flashing _lab_ in flickering letters.

I cursed myself for trying too hard with Loki. Now Bruce needed me and I had wobbly legs and an overwhelming urge to lie down and wish everything away. I pushed myself off the floor and shook my head. Now was the time. Bruce hated himself when he became the Hulk, and it was that hate that drove him from me. If I could prevent this, I could maybe get through to him. No time to wallow in self pity.

If I remembered correctly, I needed to follow this hall until I reached the elevator, and then I could hopefully wing it from there.

What if he was transforming as I walked? The thought of Bruce's muscles and body contorting and growing and turning green made me turn my jog into a run. Where the hell was Agent Hallows? Where the hell was any one? And how did I stop this stupid beeping?

My leg and my head hurt so often now that I was almost getting used to them. Still, they were aches that pulsed just below the surface of agony.

Natasha made this suit seemed graceful but I just felt extra aware of my skin as I tried to move as quickly as possible. I flexed my fingers in frustration. These hallways seemed endless.

I noticed a break in the walls. My heart jumped once as I glimpsed the door of an elevator. It stopped completely when I remembered something.

I didn't have clearance.

_Shit, shit, shit_.

I looked around for an agent. I heard hums of electricity and muffled sounds, but no one was in the hallway I was in.

"Hello?" I yelled, leaning against the wall and trying to rest my body, even for a second. "Help!"

A sound boomed through the air, rattling the walls and knocking me off my feet. I landed painfully, my back hitting the wall behind me before I careened forward with my arms crushed underneath me. Lightning bolts shot from my fingertips to my shoulders. My spine felt like someone had thrown bricks at it. Just as I saw emotions as colors, I now felt red all over and raw with pain.

I stayed on the ground, taking deep breaths. My vision faded in and out, tunneling at first while I blinked rapidly to keep myself awake. I'd do no one any good if I passed out now.

I gingerly flipped over and moved my limbs, one at a time, checking for damage. My bad leg hurt the most. I could feel the tremors of heat passing through it, like hot needles were poking me from the inside. I curled my toes, twisting my ankle around. It hurt, but I could walk on it. My other leg was in much better condition, just needing a moment for my body to stop reeling from the fall. My arms ached, knowing the bruises that would soon come, but nothing appeared broken.

I looked around, noticing some damage. Wires hung from the ceiling, knocked aside by the blast. Whatever they'd struck had been far enough away, but not too far...I hoped it wasn't where Bruce was.

And then icicles crept into my chest, gripping the heat of the pain and turning it to a different feeling. _Fear_. An explosion meant an attack, and an attack meant Loki...who had seen me. Who had known what I was doing. Who had smiled at Bruce and Natasha and me like he had no remorse for anything...

I shuddered. If we were under attack, I needed to move, limbs aside. I needed to get out of here.

"Walker? Scarlett?"

I had never been so relieved to hear my name as I was in that instant. I put weight on my better leg and leaned against the wall, looking in the direction of the voice.

"Over here!"

Agent Hallows dark head of hair filtered into view, his tie askew but his face placid.

"We have a situation."

"No shit," I said, surprising myself. "Sorry, but...I can tell. Can you take me to Bruce?"

"They hit the labs..." Agent Hallows said, gesturing to his earpiece. "But I haven't heard anything else."

A screw twisted itself through my stomach, confirming my worst suspicions.

"Let's get there as fast as we can," I told him, trying to appear outwardly confident in my abilities, hoping that my adrenaline would keep me alright for a while.

He nodded curtly. He went to the screen by the elevator, fiddling with the buttons while I waited impatiently behind him.

And then my heart stopped, because I heard a sound I had until now only heard when I was watching the video on my first day here...

A roar loud enough to shake the hallways, nestle under my skin, and twist my heart in its fingers.

I tried to stay calm, despite the fact that I imagined Bruce, big and green, walking around with Natasha and Thor in his hands.

"Move faster, Agent Hallows," I urged, swallowing the sandpaper that was my throat.

"The elevator is down," he said, turning to face me. "And I don't think we should head toward the lab anyway."

"What?" I asked, blinking in surprise. "Why?"

"I'm a mutant."

"Huh?" I asked, my face slackening. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm a mutant too," Agent Hallows said again, "I can sense powers of other mutants, for one thing. And I'm going to tell you this because I'm afraid for your safety."

"_What?_"

"Don't go to him."

I let the words sink in for just a moment. Had he gone crazy?

"I have to!" I protested, resisting the urge to tear at my hair...or his. "I've never tried to calm him as the Hulk, but I have to _try_!"

"No you don't. You're powerful but you're not practiced. Loki almost put you out of commission before—"

"—But I'm better now, it just took a few minutes—"

"—Emotions are hard, Miss Walker. They weigh on you as a person, but as an empath they can drain you."

"I have to try. Bruce is depending on **me**," I said, desperation making my voice crack.

"Bruce is not Bruce right now!" he said, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me.

I fell still and silent as he let go of me and stared into my eyes.

"I used to hate myself, you know. My father didn't...accept my gift. I didn't think anyone would. It got in the way of everything I did. Sometimes, people I knew were mutants too hated me, because I knew, because they didn't want to tell..." he trailed off, sighing. "I used to love a girl. She was a lot like you—sarcastic as all hell, but soft underneath..."

I watched his mind flutter away, but no matter how bad I felt for whatever sad story this was, my beeping wrist reminded me that there was a situation to be dealt with.

"I hope you're going somewhere with this," I prodded, raising my eyebrows.

He snapped out of his daze, glaring at me.

"I hurt her because of my power...I told her...her brother was a mutant. She didn't know," he sighed again. "It devastated her, and I realized that my self-loathing was warranted if it meant I hurt her."

I licked my dry lips, shaking my head.

"That doesn't apply here. He has never hurt me, and I can help him."

"You think so," Agent Hallows said, his face sinking in all the wrong places. "But even if he hurts you as the Hulk, he won't be able to forgive himself as Bruce."

His words hit me, and despite all my instincts to go to Bruce, I realized it was true. He would never forgive himself. He wouldn't even be able to look at me. He barely could now, and he'd never done anything except put me in _potential_ danger...

"So what do I do?"

As the question fell into the air, the sound of distant footsteps reached us. They sounded urgent and deft, and Agent Hallows fixed me with a look.

"Do you remember anything Joanna taught you?"

"The two times we trained?" I asked, my eyes wide. "A little."

"Then we've got some people to take down."

* * *

We started down the hall and I hoped that Agent Hallows was like one of those invincible secret agents on TV that managed to take down swarms of people on his own. I didn't think I would be much help, because facing ultimate doom and possible death made my hands shake so bad I had to plaster them to my sides.

We came upon them within seconds.

They were dressed in black, armed, and I couldn't see their faces. Hallows acted without thinking, which was more than I could do. He punched the first one in the face, wrenching the gun from his arms and aiming it at the other one, shooting him in the stomach, all before I could budge.

The others didn't seem too happy about that. They began shooting at Hallows, but he managed to duck in time. I heard the bullets hissing as they hit off the walls, clanking against the fallen metal from the explosion. I had no gun to defend myself with, and Hallows must have noticed because he pulled a gun from his belt and slid it on the ground toward me before turning back to fire at one of the men.

I gagged as I stepped over the one he'd shot in the stomach, careful to avoid the streaks of blood dripping across the hallway.

There were only two left now, but as Hallows grappled with one, I was faced with the other.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

I couldn't help but think of Sean, his body slumped, the air tainted with the smell of burning and blood and rubber. I tried not to throw up as I put my finger on the trigger.

And then a thought hit me, my breath catching in my throat. _This could actually be where I die._

My mind flashed to my mother, the moment I was about to take my taxi to the airport.

_"I'll miss you, Scarlett."_

_I looked at my mother, her hair falling from her bun, the scent of her flowery perfume wafting toward me. I didn't know what to say, but she apparently had something planned. _

_"You think I'm not feeling this as much as you. But I'm feeling it and hiding it for you, for your father, because if I showed how I really felt I would fall apart."_

_"I never said you didn't feel it," I protested. "But I can't handle it like you."_

_"None of us can handle it. I lost my son," my mother said, her voice low and shaking. "I thought I'd sooner be a widower, or dead myself. And now my child is gone, there is no word for it, no neat box or definition to summarize it because I feel a million different things in every piece of my shattered body." _

_"Mom..."_

_"I'm not trying to upset you," she said, placing her hands on the sides of my face. "I'm telling you you're right to go. You need to get away from this and figure out your life because you have so much of it left." _

She wanted the best for me. And now I was about to get myself killed. Would my mother survive it?

Although I couldn't see his eyes, his gender, if he was human...I felt like the black figure was staring at me. I wondered why he hadn't shot me yet. Hallows had just slammed his own attacker in the back of the neck and kicked him just to make sure he was down. Sensing my apprehension to shoot someone who wasn't coming at me, he flipped the other way and kicked the other guy in the knees. He fell to the floor, his gun clattering against the ground. Hallows didn't seem to have any anxiety about taking them down. I closed my eyes when the gun went off.

"C'mon, let's keep going this way and see how everyone else is."

As we took our first steps, the floor started to tilt. My shoulder thumped against the wall with a thud. Hallows and I shared a look of concern. I didn't really think about what would happen past us facing attackers, but then I realized they had damaged the Helicarrier. If we fell...well let's just say our biggest concern wasn't just Loki's army.

Hallows and I did our best to stay upright. My feet were sore and my throat was constricting. As we kept to the left, balancing, I started to wonder if we were just walking into more danger. Would it even be worth it?

Agent Hallows stopped moving and I almost ran into his back. I didn't realize what was happening until I remembered his ear piece. He pressed a hand to his head and closed his eyes.

"Oh no..."

"What? What's the matter?"

"We should keep going."

I followed Hallows, his suit wrinkled from fighting and noticed he was limping. What did he hear? What wasn't he telling me?

I opened my mouth to ask again, to press him if it was really important, but I heard a choked cry and shut my mouth. Hallows rushed forward to a hunched over figure. I recognized the blonde shock of hair, but instead of its usual neatness, it was hanging limply around Joanna's shoulders.

She wasn't hurt, or didn't appear to be. But her eyes were wide and empty and she was rocking with her arms wrapped around her knees.

"They want to unleash the Hulk," she muttered. I looked at Agent Hallows—she must not have heard the roar. "They...attacked...Agent Coulson is dead."

I felt dread settle like a stone inside of me. Agent Coulson. He had wheeled me down the hallway my first day here. Taken me to training. Been so high up I thought he was untouchable. And Joanna had been in love with him...

We weren't friends. We barely knew each other. But I knew what it felt like, and no one deserved it.

"Gray, you have to get up," Hallows commanded, his brisk manner back. "We have to get out of here. They're filling the hallways."

"Agent Coulson is dead," she repeated, sounding surprised. "He's _dead_."

"I understand," Hallows said, his voice softening. "But you've been trained to keep moving. We still have a lot to do."

Footsteps echoed through the hallway again. My eyes flew upward and saw two more figures coming toward us. They had their guns up before we could move.

"We're looking for Scarlett Walker."

The voice was scratchy and deep. I felt bile in my throat. Joanna said they wanted to unleash the Hulk...but they'd already succeeded. I couldn't do anything now...but they must not know that.

To them, I was an obstacle to their goal.

"Where is she?" they demanded, taking a step closer.

We were all frozen. I could sense Hallows trying to come up with a plan. I could see the ideas flying behind his eyes. I knew he had tucked his gun in the back of his pants...any moment now, he'd probably try to reach for it. And since he clearly wasn't a possible Scarlett Walker, they'd shoot him...

I had to say something. I had to give myself up. If they killed me, I'd save someone who just saved my life at least five times. If they didn't find me here, they'd kill us all and who knows who else.

I opened my mouth. I started to form words. But before they became recognizable, another voice spoke over mine.

"She's right here," Joanna said, her voice even and steady.

I frowned. I was going to give myself up, sure, but she was ready to throw me under the bus? I felt the heat of anger rise in my chest, for one brief second overriding my gut-rooted fear.

But before I could speak, Joanna said something that made my face freeze in shock.

"I'm her."

Hallows let out a breath. I let out a strangled whimper. Joanna's vacant look was cool and complacent.

The masked man shot her in the head.

I thought it was supposed to be slow motion, these types of things. But everything went quickly after that. I watched Joanna slump to the ground, crimson matting her hair and dripping down her pale skin. Her eyes were open, crystal blue and staring at the wall.

_She died for me._

I couldn't look away from her, even though I wanted to, even though my nerves were jumping in opposite directions, even though Hallows had reached for his gun. I felt my own weapon in my hand. I could smell the metal from the blood and the gun and the bullets.

_I didn't even like her, and she died for me._

I never thought I would recognize the sound of a body falling dead to the ground, but I heard it as Hallows fired, this time straight for the heart. The other man was quicker and had his gun trained on Hallows before he could position himself to face him. I had raised my own gun at some point, my brain taking over even though my entire body felt numb.

I pulled the trigger.

I hit him in the head, where they'd shot Joanna. I imagined the warmth leaving their bodies. The gun had pushed me backward, hurting the muscles in my arms. I slouched against the wall, cradling my arm and feeling tears streaming down my face.

Hallows closed his eyes. I was close enough to see his long eyelashes press against each other. He had a cut on his forehead, and was holding his wrist, his face scrunched in pain. I could read his thoughts through the wrinkles of his face.

I could hear the low hum of the radio in his ear.

It shocked me, somehow, that other things were happening. It shocked me that the world wasn't frozen like I was.

"The Captain and Iron Man are fixing the engines," he told me, his breathing rattling in his chest as he looked at Joanna. "Let's get someone to get her out of here."

* * *

I had showered but could still feel the day on my skin, like dirt I couldn't scrub away. Even though the conflict was for the moment over with, I didn't feel settled by any means.

An agent had told me Bruce was gone. I'd almost crumpled right then, given up entirely, before he explained he was actually gone, as in not present. He'd fallen from the Helicarrier, but he'd fallen as the Hulk, so they guessed he was somewhere now, back to Bruce.

Every time I closed my eyes I saw his face. I saw Joanna's dead body. I saw the man I shot in the head. I saw Sean's fading eyes. I saw my mother's tear stained cheeks.

I wanted **out** of this mission. I wanted out of this place where people died, where _I_ killed people, me whose power was mental and not supposed to involve combat of any kind.

I killed someone. I was the reason that someone was no longer living, breathing, talking, walking...Two people, if I thought about it, because even though I didn't pull the trigger with Joanna I was the reason she was dead.

I sat outside the room that Natasha was in. I chose the floor because my legs weren't holding me up right now. For some reason, I wanted to talk to her. She was so perceptive about me, maybe she could tell me a way to move on without breaking down entirely...

I saw Steve walking down the hallway. He was in his Captain America suit, the stars and stripes moving with his muscles as his gaze fell on me.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his concern seeming genuine.

I wished I had his strength. I couldn't handle my losses, and he was in a world where he actually didn't know anybody.

I nodded.

He didn't look convinced, but he knocked on the door that Natasha was behind. She opened it a second later, giving me a curious look before Steve spoke to her.

I didn't hear what they were saying until Steve started to back away, and I caught the words "Suit up."

Moments later, Natasha emerged with who I assumed was Agent Barton. She beckoned me to rise with a flick of the wrist.

Somehow, despite my protesting body and mind, I stood up.

Agent Barton had arrows strapped to his back. I guessed whatever Loki had done to him had worn off. That was good, at least. The way Natasha had asked Loki about him made me wonder...

The boys walked briskly ahead of us. Natasha fixed me with a look, and I blurted the question before I could stop myself.

"So...you and this Clint guy?" I asked.

"No," she said, her face twisted into an odd smirk. "You and Bruce?"

"Um...no."

We lapsed into an uneasy silence then. It surprised me that my voice sounded so normal when that was the farthest thing from what I felt.

"What's the point in eavesdropping with you two?" a voice said behind us, "I've heard livelier talk in a funeral home."

Natasha rolled her eyes at Tony and I almost smiled. There was something in his tone that was so regular, I was relieved. At least when the world crumbled, some things didn't change.

"What's the plan, Iron Man?" I asked, infusing my voice with as much strength as I could muster.

"You didn't hear Steve?" Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's New York."

And for the millionth time today, my heart sank to my knees.

_My parents lived in New York._

And the cycle started all over again...

* * *

AH! Sorry this took so long, I had such writer's block. More Bruce in next one, promise. :) Love?


	12. Chapter 12

**"Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. The fearful are caught as often as the bold."**

-Helen Keller

* * *

"So you don't have a big family?" Bruce asked, watching me watch the children streak across the dirt field. He was across from me, drawing pictures in the dirt while I kept an eye on the game of tag. Madira was 'it' and was having trouble catching up to the other children. I squinted after her dirty yellow dress, the sun making it dotted with red.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "My mom had one sister, and my dad was an only child. They both work in New York City and commute a lot, so I spent a lot of time at my Aunt's house with Dylan. I think that's why I came out relatively normal."

"If that's what you'd like to believe."

I couldn't help but smile, despite the insult, and knocked Bruce in the shoulder with my fist. He held it in mock pain, his fingers clutching the loose blue fabric.

"I'm just joking. You are _quite _normal," he corrected, giving me a lop-sided grin.

"Well when you say it like that, I don't want to be normal," I huffed. I'd meant normal in the way that I wasn't uptight like my parents, but not normal in a boring, placid way.

"Why not?" Bruce shrugged. "I'd like to be normal."

"Normal is boring," I insisted. "Admit that I'm abnormal."

"You are a contradiction, Miss Walker," Bruce sighed, shaking his head which made his glasses slide down his nose.

"Admit that I'm abnormal!" I said, leaning toward him even though I had to put my palms and knees in the dirt.

"You yourself, just seconds ago, labeled yourself relatively normal—"

"It was a moment of weakness. Now say it!"

"In comparison with me—"

"Say it!" I said, getting even closer to his face.

He held his hands up in defense, his fingertips dusty brown.

"I'm just saying—"

"Say it!" I wondered what his stubble would feel like against my skin, and then hoped that I wasn't blushing.

"I, with my whole heart, believe you to be the most abnormal woman I've ever met."

I leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek, before settling back down to my spot.

"Thank you."

I smirked in triumph while Bruce ducked and shook his head. He smiled at the ground as he continued to draw lines in the dirt.

* * *

_He'd fallen as the Hulk, and aimed not to hurt anyone._

It was the first thing all day that relieved him. That, and that he didn't have to wander around naked until he found some clothes. But mostly the Hulk control thing.

He needed to get to Tony and the rest of them. If he could control it, he could use it and be of some help instead of just being a ticking time bomb. If he could control it, he could be better than he thought, he could be _useful_.

He exited the building, looking back to see the damage he'd done. Caved in stone was sprawled around him, giving the air a dusty haze. He turned away, scanning the landscape. What could he use? How could he get there?

His mind flickered to Scarlett, even as his mind flew with other thoughts. She hadn't answered the alarm he supposed they sent her, at least not in time. He hoped that meant she was far away from the explosion. Far away from Loki.

His mind drifted to darker thoughts. Ones of her wounded, with blood matted across her body, like he found her when she was shot. It was at his expense, just as Loki's attack had been at his expense, just as everything bad that happened to her been his fault. He squeezed his eyes tightly to force those pictures away.

_No_, he told himself. _No. She is fine_. _She is in the Helicarrier, which they fixed, and she is far away from all of this._

He repeated it to himself over and over as he continued to search.

* * *

"New York?" I practically whispered to Tony. "My parents work there. Right near your building."

His usual sarcastic attitude was dropped for a moment as he looked at me uncomfortably.

"Well that's why we're headed to stop them."

"I need to call them! I need to go to them, do something," I muttered, looking around as everyone looked at me grimly.

"You can't call them, Scarlett. You're not even supposed to know this information. If we tell someone, we have to tell everyone and that would cause widespread panic. _And _they think you're in India..." Natasha pointed out, her lips thinning as she frowned.

"I don't care! I can't not do _something_, I've stood around and not done something enough in my lifetime," I said, feeling desperation crawl into my throat and change my voice.

My mind flickered between images of crushed cars and Sean's body. I thought of Loki standing above my father, who still went for runs every morning, healthy for his age, his body broken at wrong angles. I thought of an alien army hovering above my mother who always smelled like a garden and was strong even when I didn't want to her to be, even when I resented her for it.

I noticed a guard come up and say something quietly to Tony, who nodded and followed him down the hall. I missed Bruce. Tony left, Bruce was gone, Thor was gone...He made the hallways look even narrower than usual, but even in his absence I felt like the walls were closing in on me.

"I have to go to them," I said, looking around at the remaining group.

Natasha's frown deepened, mirroring Steve's. Clint had his arms crossed, looking out of place.

"We have to get ready to leave," Natasha said, giving me a look that I read as guilt. I gaped at her as she turned around, Clint following her. They'd gotten a few feet down the hall when she realized Steve wasn't following.

"Cap?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Scarlett," Steve said, my name sounding strange in his voice. "I have to ask that you don't leave."

I felt a weight in my stomach. I knew that this band of heroes felt obligated to warn me of danger, but once they got down this hall I'd be out of their mind. They had bigger things to do than baby-sit me, and all the agents were a little busy dealing with post-Loki explosions.

"I like you Steve Rogers," I said, looking up at him and thinking of his story of him as a scrawny, headstrong kid. "But I have a feeling that if you were in my shoes, you'd do the same." I paused, feeling his objection. "Even_ before_ you were Captain America."

He seemed to be at a loss for words, so I touched his shoulder, pushing him forward. He didn't budge but he got the idea, and looked back at me with a frown.

"We'll help everyone. You just have to trust us," he insisted, his voice getting louder as he followed Natasha. "We'll do the best we can."

* * *

Unfortunately, the best Steve could do was not the best that I could do. I did not want to get into the habit of watching my family die. And staying on the Helicarrier and watching aliens demolish New York from the air was something that would weigh on me the rest of my life.

So I went to the one person that didn't owe me anything, but might be able to help.

"C'mon Hallows," I said, pleading with him. "You've got to understand."

"Understand that you want me to break the rules? Get fired? Put myself and you in a situation we'll probably die in?"

"A situation where we could help people."

"How Scarlett? You are not equipped to deal with aliens anymore than anyone in that city. What could you possibly do?"

"If we get a headstart, we could get out of the city." I imagined running with my parents, catching the last train, getting them to safety...

"If we thought that was a plausible idea for people, Fury would have told them. But it would only cause—"

"—Panic, I know. More trouble. And I would save everyone if I had the choice, but right now I'd just like to save two."

I felt so desperate to rely on someone else to do what I wanted to do. I felt stupid, because I had been so bitter about my parents and now I was running to risk my life to save theirs. But the feeling of helplessness as I watched Sean die was something I could still feel in the root of my cells, threatening to bubble up and drown me, and I couldn't live if I couldn't breathe.

"You know what you're asking me."

His voice was tired, achy, old despite his age. His eyes were sunken in. But I almost had him.

"This is going to be a hell of a day, Hallows." I rubbed my temples. "I don't even think they'll notice we left."

"Trust me, they'll notice."

"You know how hard family can be," I said, thinking of his earlier confessions. "But you also know that no matter what, you have obligations to them."

"I didn't save your life so you could throw it away."

"I'm not throwing it away. Do you understand that I won't be able to live if I don't do something? That the guilt would crush me? Has already crushed me..."I trailed off. "Joanna _died_ for me."

"She was distraught about Coulson," he said, waving me off. "She didn't think."

"Well I'm thinking now. She made a sacrifice, and that's what I want to do. Please, you are the **only** one that can help me."

He frowned. He sighed. He too rubbed his temples, and then his scalp, and then let out a hiss of air between clenched teeth.

"I know someone who will get you down there. I can't fly those things..."

I almost jumped in relief before I remembered that I was heading to a soon to be attack zone. If Loki was enough to scare me, I wasn't sure I was ready to face a grotesque army. But I didn't have a choice, and Hallows was risking his career for me.

"Thank you," I breathed, grabbing his shoulders before pressing him into a hug. "I don't know what I did to deserve it, but you've saved my life more than once."

He returned the hug stiffly before shaking his head.

"Brunettes were always my downfall," he joked, giving a half-hearted smile before sliding the doors open.

I kept close behind him, my mind now on hyperspeed. Where should I go first? Should I try to call beforehand? Should I tell anyone else, or would that cause more trouble? We had reached the elevator when I saw a familiar flash of red hair. I tried to ignore her, but Natasha grabbed my arm before I could enter the elevator. I noticed Hallows turn away swiftly, but she didn't even look at him.

"Hey," she said, locking eyes with me. I swallowed fire, hoping she wasn't alerting Fury as we spoke. "Don't get yourself killed. I don't want to deal with Banner after that."

I gaped in surprise for a moment before I could remember to respond.

"I'll try."

She nodded at me, and I felt oddly like I had gained some sort of friend here. I was turning back to Hallows when I felt her press something cold and heavy into my hands. I felt the true weight of it as I wrapped my hand around the slick handle.

"Try harder," she said with a smirk, nodding at me again before turning on her heel.

I made sure the safety was on and tucked the gun into my pants.

* * *

Reviews make my day and night!

**Also, shameless self plug: I have a Clint story posted if anyone's interested in a certain archer. :) **


	13. Chapter 13

**"Anger is just anger. It isn't good. It isn't bad. It just is. What you do with it is what matters. It's like anything else. You can use it to build or to destroy. You just have to make the choice."**

-Jim Butcher

* * *

"So where's your head right now Walker?"

"Somewhere between panic and unconsciousness. Is it bad I'm sort of hoping for the latter?"

Nina smiled, her teeth flashing bright white and her braid swinging behind her and she turned back to the controls. Her dark suit complimented her dark skin, reminding me of how bad my own suit had looked. It seemed like years ago that I had worn it. I was glad at least that I had time to change into comfortable clothes before running around like a crazy person.

"You'll be alright. If Hallows is risking his ass for you, then you must be tough."

"I'm not, but thankfully he didn't have enough time to realize," I insisted, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants. I felt guilty enough already without being reminded my little trip could cost two agents their jobs. "Please don't let him get blamed for this. Or you, either. You can tell them I threatened you or something."

"I'll blame it on the empathy messing with our emotions," she said, winking at me. "But I know people in high places. The only thing you should worry about is staying alive."

"It's high up on the list," I joked feebly. "Probably tied for first."

"At least you and Banner maintain your sarcasm in high pressure situations," Nina said, pushing her sunglasses from her hairline down to her eyes. "But let's have a serious moment."

I swallowed, wishing her eyes weren't blocked so I could see a little reassurance in them.

"Be careful kid," she advised with a pointed finger, despite being only a few years older than me. I could feel us descending and shook my feet awake. "Stay alert. Keep your head low. Don't panic if people around you start to. And most important of all..." she paused, turning back to the controls. "Don't tell anyone we've met."

She laughed at my frown despite her attention being on the windows. I hadn't looked out since we left, but now I could see the shocking clarity of roofs as we got lower and lower.

I heard us land with a thump, feeling vibration rock my toes and travel up my body. Nina extended her hand. I shook it, trying to grip hard and convince myself I _was_ tough. She dropped it she saluted at me, pushing me forward with her heavy, black boot as I turned around toward the exit.

"Last chance to back out!" she yelled behind me.

"No thanks," I yelled back, hearing her machines beeping as she pressed more buttons.

"Thought you'd say that!" she called, waving with the excitement of what I hoped was adrenaline and not craziness. "Good luck!"

I descended in a daze—were my legs moving? It amazed me how well my body could react without me realizing. My senses flooded back when my feet touched the gray, grainy roof.

Being inside the flow of people in a city is very different than being on top of it. I could hear the screech of tires and the humming of life and machines and felt like I was looking at something so big I couldn't imagine what was going on if I tried.

And then it all crashed into me that I could very well die today. Nina was gesturing for me to back away. Gesturing on _today, the day I could die_. The roar of the engine and the smell of fuel knocked the breath from my lungs. _On today, the day I could die._

I was on my own now. I couldn't even get back to the Helicarrier if I tried. That meant I had to move, _fast._

I had to stop nearly all my limbs from shaking as I ran for the door to the stairs.

The building was tall. At least fifty stories. I opted for the safer way out and rode the elevator down the last forty-six of them. I had to preserve some energy, at least. I hadn't trained for any marathons lately, and it was showing in my desperate lungs.

A few people got on and off. I kept my eyes on the lighted key-pad, watching the numbers ding and fade away as we moved lower and lower.

I studied people's shoes instead of their faces. Black, shiny men's shoes. Purple three-inch heels. Camel colored knee high boots. They passed noiselessly in the dark, carpeted elevator. It was strange to me to move in an echoless box down an empty chamber, but my mind was flickering to Loki's dark face, and the gruesome faces of aliens that were imprinted in my head from horror stories.

It scared me most how human my mind was making them look.

And then the lobby came. The same carpet of the elevator—a deep blue, covered the room with specks of silver like waves. I dashed across it and through the streaky glass doors.

And then I was running on the streets of New York, past people going to work, people shopping, people talking and laughing. I was running on the streets of New York and aside from an angry glare of a bespectacled, suited business man I crashed into, nobody cared where I was going. I was running on the streets of New York and everyone thought it was a normal day and I was the crazy one.

I was running on the streets of New York and a hole was opening in the sky.

* * *

"That's an awful idea, Sean," I said, squinting at him. He changed his mind so often I wasn't surprised he had a new career idea. But I was surprised that he'd have such a bleak idea for a movie script.

"Why?"

"People don't kill three quarters of the main characters. That's kind of the point."

"I know that's the point." He shrugged, his shoulders tensing in defense. "That's why I did it."

"Yes but...I like to read things that distract me from the fact that life is frail and fleeting."

"Don't be melodramatic!" Sean with his strange, deep and catching laugh, his inability to stay hostile always amusing me. "It's just an idea."

"Well it's true. You want to kill all those people after the viewers get attached to them? And then the main character is all alone in the end. Are you gonna kill him when it's all done?"

"I don't know yet," Sean said, scratching his head so his dark hair stuck up in the back. "Sometimes it's just about action...despite things. Getting through of the thing in front of you."

"Survival," I supplied, thinking it over.

"Temporarily." He grinned, the emerald glinting in his eyes. "But I didn't really mean for it to be quite so philosophical."

"No, just depressing," I teased.

"That's because it scares you," he accused, pointing his bony finger at me.

"It doesn't scare you?" I raised my eyebrows.

"I'm not afraid to die," Sean said, stretching his arms out and looking at the sky. He did that thing where he made his voice a different octave to seem less serious than he was actually being. "I'm afraid of not existing while I actually exist."

"So living d_espite_…" I trailed off, looking for the right word. But I couldn't find one, and it didn't matter.

"Despite," he confirmed. "Perfect. Just living despite."

"That could work, I guess."

"Work on that attitude, miss," he demanded, throwing his arms wide again. "Or I won't be paying off your med school debts when I'm rich and famous."

I felt the feeling of a grin rise in my chest and settle on my face.

"Did I mention you look handsome today?"

"Better," he said, grinning widely himself. "Continue."

* * *

It wasn't like anything I'd imagined. I felt like I was trapped in a Doctor Who episode but I was sonic screwdriver and Doctor-less, and the aliens were going to win.

People were no longer oblivious to the dangers, and were now frozen in time to watch the blue twister-like explosions rock the city.

I couldn't waste time with observation. My mother was four blocks away.

I continued to run, my throat becoming dry as the stale air whipped into it, cold against the heat of my mouth. I heard the firing start. I kept close to the buildings as the screams broke out in waves.

I didn't look up yet, but I knew they were filling the sky. People were jarring their heads up and trying to run at the same time.

I got stuck in a mass of people. It didn't matter what I shouted, because it was just drowned out by the shrill, united voice that panic has. I pushed and shoved and elbowed my way until I could breathe again.

I was still three blocks away. I could see Tony's building but I tried not to think of what was happening there.

I kept moving until the blasts. With a shudder, I realized they were opening fire at anything. People ran, their bones crashing against mine, their faces twisted with fear. Some were holding onto each other, but most were trying to get out of the street—I could hear buildings breaking. I looked up just in time to see stone cascading like a waterfall down the faultline in a building ten feet in front of me. Glass streaked through the air like transparent birds, shattering across the pavement. I dodged it as my sneakers slapped against the ground.

Taxis flipped over, the yellow looking wrong as it blurred through my vision. The yelling continued. Sides of buildings turned into rubble that looked like it could have existed there for weeks as stony dust clung to my hair and skin.

Two blocks away.

Most people were running the opposite way of me. A lot of them were seeking refuge in the adjacent buildings, but I wasn't sure if that was much safer when they were crumbling as much as the streets were.

With curiosity that wouldn't go away, I looked up again.

I choked, the combination of raw fear and a dry mouth culminating in a response that caused me to collapse against the door of an overturned cab. People were running around me, some bleeding from wounds. A man with his face covered in blood from the nose down left my eyes spotted with crimson.

They were in the air. They looked like mechanical slugs with wings. Like some prehistoric creature spouting aliens. They were unnatural in the sky, unnatural against the blue of the Earth, unnatural even among the buildings.

I saw police coming from the corner of my eye. But what could they do, really, against an attack like this?

I turned back in the direction of my mother's building. I noticed two people slumped on the street, just huddled together. Hordes rushed past me, yelling in fear. A mother clutched a child to her and kissed the rosary beads around her neck. Ironically, she looked at the alien infested sky.

I shuddered but couldn't allow myself a proper response, because the proper thing to do would be to run away or faint or throw up or cry and I didn't have time for any of those things.

I thought of Sean. I thought of Bruce. I thought of Dylan. I thought of my parents. And for a brief second, I thought of the world and how selfish it was that it didn't matter to me unless I could be with the people who were _my_ world.

Maybe that made me a bad person. But either way, it got me moving.

It was getting harder to go forward. The rubble intensified. The police were in the street. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of red, white and blue. Steve swung his arms around in quick flashes. I swallowed hard, watching bodies of foreign species falling at his feet.

Life was simpler before aliens and S.H.I.E.L.D. and Bruce Banner. Not as interesting, but simpler.

I took in a breath. I let it out. I noticed vaguely my hand had been struck with glass and blood coated two of my fingers. I watched Steve for another moment, wondering at how his polite demeanor could turn to such assertiveness when it was needed. For one second, I thought he looked at me.

Unfortunately, he didn't. Unfortunately, he was too far away to hear me at all. And unfortunately, my body froze as an armored-looking, angry alien headed my way.

* * *

Reasons I'm a Bad Person: 1. I haven't updated in a month. 2. I left a cliff-hanger. 3. Anything I might have missed.

Please forgive me! School is kicking my ass this semester, but I am kicking back and will be finishing this story if it kills me!


	14. Chapter 14

**"The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places. But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater."**

-J.R.R. Tolkien

* * *

The street I was on was turning into a crater, and if I didn't move quickly, I was going to join the rubble.

My brain moved into overdrive. Colors blurred, the ground shifted, and I almost fell, but I was thinking and thinking and...what could I do? Use? Defend myself with?

The alien was fast, much faster than I was. I tried with a sudden flash of genius to use my empathy and stave away his fury, but it all happened too quickly for me to even focus let alone push the field out.

What would I use anyway? Could I deflect the emotions of a creature I didn't know existed before today?

All I could manage to do was back up, the blood making my fingers slip as I clenched my fists. The noise of panic was clogging the air and choking me. People surged around me, blurring with the sparks flying in the air. The alien was glinting silver and hate and I was off Steve's radar, and I might have been a mutant, but I was just a human, prone to panic attacks and bouts of self deprecation, and what power did I have against another world? The alien lashed out now, and I ducked in time to avoid the blue shot of light.

It all moved in slow motion then, and I thought I could see the sun in the cracks of the ground but it was really just Iron Man shooting from his hands against the Captain's shield. The alien fired again and I swear I could feel it, but my mind had fizzled down and turned my body numb and somehow I was off my feet.

It was a stupid thought to have but I had pushed my friends away, and I had pushed my parents away, and I had been alone for a while but I suddenly _felt_ it.

The alien was momentarily distracted by a horde of people pushing past me. I noticed that as more time passed, more of the aliens filled the streets and more slug-like things flew through the air. The water level in my chest was rising to my throat.

The people were gone. I pressed my eyes shut when two of them crumpled to the ground. I couldn't think of Sean, or Joanna, because if I did, I might crumple too. Instead I looked the opposite way, to the sky, and thought for a moment I saw a flash of green but it was hard to tell with all the other colors bleeding around it.

The alien found me again.

I was just a human. I had no ascertainable powers to help me in hand to hand combat. I was going to die by the hands of metal and space.

But then, just as another blue shot headed toward my head, I realized something.

...Natasha was too. She wasn't injected or radiated or a demi-god, and she was out there fighting, killing them, saving us. She was cold but fierce and strong, and she was human and doing it, and so could I and she hadgiven me a gun and..._she had given me a gun_.

My brain reacted in world speed and even though I had never felt comfortable with metal in my hand like that, metal that could kill, I pointed it forward and switched off the safety and fired without a thought.

Maybe I had seen a flash of green. And maybe he didn't want to have a relationship with me, but I was going to live long enough to either convince him otherwise or to become strong again, because I had spent too much time being weak.

* * *

The sky was opening up, and Jack Walker was pretty convinced that it was the end of the world.

He had decided this once before, on the day that he put his only son in the ground. But at that moment, he was the only one in the city who wanted to run down the street and scream until his lungs bled. Right now, it seemed that everyone was.

The window in the lobby faced the street and he watched, transfixed, as people tore through the streets.

He never considered himself a brave man. He couldn't even talk to his family most of the time. Hell, his wife hadn't even expected him to help her with Sean's funeral. But this felt like a new low, standing with his hand turning white holding a briefcase and watching foreign things fill the sky.

He was a good runner, usually, but today his legs would not work.

He stood there for ages, wondering if Sean's death had tampered with his emotional response. It must have, because while people fled or hid or screamed all around him, he stayed in the same spot, watching with the numbness of desperation.

They were aliens. They must have been, because they sure weren't human. He saw fire and blood and screaming people. He saw flipping cars and...heroes? People fighting back at least. Sirens and cars.

All that movement and he still didn't have hope. All that activity and he still couldn't budge.

He probably wouldn't have moved an inch unless he saw his daughter.

He thought he was dreaming for a moment. Only a dream could have conjured this wickedness, this pure evil that would have placed his only living child who should have been safe on another continent into the very path of harm's way.

He was sure of it this time. The end of the world, and he couldn't do a thing about it.

* * *

I was in my father's building. It had snuck up on me, and after I ran out of bullets, it seemed in my best interest to head indoors.

It was strange, but it was like my father had been waiting for me. He looked like he did every morning before work, with his suit pressed and a briefcase in hand, but there was something wrong here because he was frozen.

"Dad?"

"Scarlett?" His eyes rolled like in a daze. "How...w-what are you doing here?"

"I came to help."

I was breathless and my body hurt to the core, but here was my father and for that I almost drooped in happiness.

"But how did you know? What about...India?" His face paled. "I don't understand."

I bit my lip as he shook his head. His hair was grayer than I remembered, but maybe he only looked older because his speech was confused and his eyes were dull and he was the only one standing still and looking small in the large windowed lobby.

"I don't really have time to explain. Do you know if Mom's okay?"

"She's not here, she's on vacation with your Aunt," he said distractedly, his eyes fixed on the window while my body drained of the idea of my mother trapped somewhere. "What _are_ they? What's going on?"

I followed his gaze out the window and felt my heart jolt as I caught a glimpse of Bruce.

"What is **that**?" my father gasped.

"I'll introduce you two at the next Sunday dinner."

My father actually broke his stare to look at me funny, but I shook it off. My head was pounding and my back was soaked with sweat, and this still wasn't over.

"What should we do?" my father asked, his movements jerky now that he was moving at all. "Hide?"

I looked out at the street. Most people were off of it, but the emotions were palpable in the air. Anxiety and fear turned my vision cloudy and colored and I felt suffocated.

"Let's move from the windows."

We settled away from them, our backs against a wall near the front desk. My father probably thought we were waiting it out, but I had other ideas. If I couldn't fight physically, I would mentally.

It was hard to think of calming things in such panic, but it helped that my dad was still and silent as a stone. I closed my eyes and tried to think of quiet and soothing pictures. Light dappling across water. Bruce's hand in my own. Dylan reading Madira a book. Watching stars before bedtime.

I pushed it all out. It was the least focused my energy had ever been, but I tried to imagine it like a cloud, rising up and finally settling over large spaces. There was a group of workers not too far from us, all connected by at least one touching limb, and I chanced a look at them. It was hard to tell, but I think some of their shoulders visibly relaxed.

My head was still pounding from a harsh blow, and I was sweating even more, but I didn't stop. Mindset is just as important in a bad situation and I wanted to be of some help. As long as my brain worked, I was going to use it. My shirt stuck to my skin and my eyes grew heavy, but I tried to relax and closed my eyes.

I'm not sure how I long I sat there. There were no clocks in here and time was subjective in a crisis. But when I felt myself drifting out of consciousness, I turned to my father.

He broke his daze to make eye contact with me.

"I'm glad you're here," he whispered, his voice almost unrecognizable. "Well, no...I wish you weren't here. But if you had to be here, I'm glad you're _here_. Does that make sense?"

My dad never really said what he was feeling, so I nodded but couldn't actually force words from my throat. I grabbed his hand and squeezed, but my fingers felt numb.

His eyes narrowed in concern as my body grew heavier. His gaze flitted to the space around me.

"You're bleeding."

My hand was crusted in blood, but it was old now and had stopped somewhere around my last bullet.

"It's okay, just got glass in my hand..."

Why did it suddenly hurt to talk?

"Not your hand, your back..."

I saw him gulp and he put a hand on my shoulder, which immediately sent hot spikes of pain rolling down my back. I cried out and he recoiled, when a sickening thought entered my mind.

It wasn't the sweat making the shirt stick to my skin.

My eyelids were weighed down again, but this time I gave up and let them close.

* * *

After Agent Hallows told Scarlett he was a mutant, she hadn't responded with a lot of excitement or surprise but he didn't really blame her. They didn't know each other well, they were being attacked, and her boyfriend or unrequited love or whatever the hell Banner was was turning into a huge monster...but she had found him later and he would never forget it.

_"It's not a curse, you know," she said, sitting beside him in the hallway. She was still visibly shaken up from Joanna, and then Bruce leaving the Helicarrier, but she wore the tiredness in dignity. "Your mutation. You said it hurt the people you love, but isn't it sort of a gift?"_

_"Oh yeah, a real gift," he'd muttered with bitterness, rolling his eyes. "Let me reveal exactly what people don't want to know..."_

_"No," she said, shaking her head. "You can sense other mutants. You have the power to help them with something they might have been too scared to ever say out loud. You have the power to find people who are just like you." _

_"And what if they resent me for it?"_

_"Then they resent you. Then they're angry. But the way I see it, you're going to stumble across someone who's glad they're not alone. Well, someone __**else**__...because you've already made me feel better."_

_"You're just saying that cause I saved your life."_

_She grinned now, for one moment her eyes growing brighter._

_"Doesn't make it any less true."_

He hadn't looked at it that way before. And maybe she was a pain in the ass, but when things settled down, and the dust fell to the ground, and Bruce shook with fury when he realized she wasn't there...

Well he thought it was time to use his gift to find her.

* * *

Well...that took a while. But your reviews are simply LOVELY and I hope you liked this one!

Note: I know technically Natasha is all enhanced and whatnot, but I feel like Scarlett wouldn't know that, so let's roll with it. :)


	15. Chapter 15

**"An aim in life is the only fortune worth finding."**

-Robert Louis Stevenson

* * *

I dub this the week of story updates. Shower me with thoughts! Maybe we will have a speedy update if I'm inspired by your words!

* * *

"And you were with these superheroes?"

It was our third meeting in the last three days, and she always acted like it was the first time she was hearing this.

"Aren't therapists supposed to be non-judgmental?" I asked pointedly.

"I'm just asking a question."

"You have a tone."

Dr. Adamson just kept her gaze level, her face emotionless. She would be all one color, a pale, stagnant peach, if not for her bright red glasses.

"I think we should move on. How are you feeling emotionally?"

"Pissed off that no one believes me."

"It makes sense to...associate with these heroes, Scarlett. They saved the city, and you certainly helped in your own way. But it just doesn't add up. They could easily look up where you are."

"I'm sure they have a lot of other things to deal with right now. And it's not like I'm an agent. And the systems and phones are all down...they're doing records by hand! But Bruce will look, I know he will."

"And Bruce...he's been a comfort to you?" she pushed her red glasses up her nose. "A comfort you've looked for since your brother's death?"

"Yes...and not a comfort I made up," I said through clenched teeth.

The alarm on her desk suddenly sounded, a shrill call that pierced my skull like a small blade.

"I'm afraid that's time. I'm going to clear you for discharge, Scarlett, but I'm going to mandate bi-weekly visits."

I wanted to tell her to shove it, but I didn't want her to revoke her clearing me, so I swallowed my words painfully.

"Thank you Doctor Adamson, it's been really eye-opening."

* * *

"Did you find them yet? I mean, they're all over the news, and if someone would pass along the message to Bruce, I _know_ he would come."

My mom patted her hand against my bandaged one. I wasn't sure how long it had been since my therapist visit, but I do know that she side-stepped every attempt I'd made to talk about it and was pretty convinced I had gone crazy somewhere along the way.

"We have to leave the hospital in the morning," she said, ignoring me. "It's too busy and you're out of the woods, but you do need to check back and get some scans of that brain of yours."

"Why, because you think I hit my head too hard?"

"Honey, are you sure you don't want to rest before we start the discharge papers?"

"No. But you're going to try and take me back to our house and away from the city, and I just need to find them. I'm not lying! I am not crazy or concussed or confused, or any negative 'c' word you can think of—"

"Cookoo?" my dad muttered, causing my mother to shoot him a look. He shrugged, his indifference making me smile.

"Sweetheart, you were in India. And now you're here. And you're telling us a far-fetched story about traveling on a huge aircraft with superheroes and some man named Bruce, and how you were a part of that? Dr. Adamson thinks you're...lost. Where have you really been all this time?"

Her expression was too much for me. I wanted to throw a bedpan at her lack of belief in her own daughter. I had been depressed and I had been angry but I had never been _delusional_.

"I have been exactly where I said I was."

She shook her head at me, letting out a long breath. My father was characteristically silent.

"I'm going to get the nurse."

I let out a long sigh of my own. My head still ached if I moved too much, and sometimes I got dizzy, but everyone treated me like I was about to break into a million pieces.

I looked out the window. The city wasn't in such bad shape on this side, but I knew parts were destroyed. Images of Steve and Thor were plastered on newspapers, but there were also pictures of those killed and I couldn't help but count myself lucky I wasn't one of them.

The sky was dark, a side-effect of all the destruction I guess. I still don't know how my mom managed to get here, considering the roads were a mess and public transportation was down, and yet...

She was here. And Bruce wasn't.

Maybe I was crazy after all. Maybe no one was coming for me.

* * *

"I heard it hurts you a lot."

Alana nodded, her burned but bandaged arms wrinkling the bedspreads. I was thankfully out the hospital gown she was wearing, and sitting on a slightly uncomfortable blue chair next to her bed.

"Do you want to try something with me?"

She nodded again, and I smiled. She was shyer than I was as a kid, which was saying a lot.

"Alright. Close your eyes."

I peeked at her face to make sure she did it. Her eyes were shut tight, causing little wrinkles in her otherwise smooth forehead.

"Imagine the pain is a big dragon. Green scales, gold claws, and red eyes."

Her parents had told me she loved fairy tales, and I hoped that doing this would help her even when I wasn't around.

"Now, imagine you're in front of it. You don't have a sword, but you do have powers...you can make things _disappear _with your wand_._"

I heard a small noise in her throat and grinned. This time, I had to think of my own energy. It had been low since I was hurt, but with enough focus it should do the trick.

"If you concentrate and wave your wand, it will vanish. First, look at the nose...it's big with smoke coming out of the nostrils. Raise your wand really high, and flick it. Is it gone?"

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes still shut.

I gathered up all of my calm feelings, pretending I was with Bruce. Yellows painted my vision and I actually felt an ache in my bones as I passed them to Alana.

"Now the tail...spiky and green. Focus really hard...imagine it gone! Empty space! Wave your wand! Do you feel the pain going away?"

She nodded.

I pushed my last surge of energy toward her, feeling my own body become tired.

"Now the whole thing, Alana. This dragon is the pain in your arms. Use your wand. You can't see it anymore. And you can't feel it anymore."

She opened her eyes now. They were a deep brown, but still shone in the mostly white hospital room. She let out a few deep breaths, the beeping of her machines a steady tone.

"It worked," she said, smiling for the first time. "Thank you."

* * *

"Scarlett, stop acting like a child."

"Mother, stop treating me like one."

"Your father is getting the car." Her eyes were on the window—avoiding mine.

"I want to stay in the city."

She looked more tired than I felt. And older too, like a few hard days could add to the lines around her eyes. I felt guilty, but being tough was the only way to get through to her.

"Hotels are full—people's homes were destroyed. And the city is too. Why wouldn't you want to come home?"

"I want to help people," I insisted. I had walked around the wards all day. It turns out being able to calm people works in hospitals as well as with over-reactive men named Bruce, and it made my chest calm down for the first time in days. Maybe I couldn't always get rid of all the pain, but I could take people's minds off of it, and sometimes that was better than drugs.

"You need to recover first," she said, finally turning her gaze to mine. It was both harsh and pleading at the same time—something only a mother could master.

"I'm fine. And what better place to be than a hospital anyway?"

"Scarlett..."

"Mom."

"This isn't what I imagined for you."

"Why not?" I asked, my voice groaning in exasperation.

"I want you to fall back into place."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning medical school. Meaning following your dreams, settling down..."

I almost smiled thinking of the last few events in my life. India, Bruce, S.H.I.E.L.D., Hallows, mutations...I suddenly was quite aware I wasn't cut out for a normal life.

"Not everything goes according to plan, Mom."

"I don't want you to be stuck here all alone, surrounded by devastation and...slip back. Are you deliberately not moving on?"

I felt frustration like a physical object in my stomach, both weighing me down and pushing anger up in my throat.

"This isn't about Sean! It's about _me_. Finding something to do with my life that doesn't make me feel useless."

"Is it about waiting for...Bruce?" she asked, turning his name into a sigh.

"He's a real person," I spat. "And contrary to your belief, so am I. I'm not a project, or an idea you can mold. I'm doing this."

She sighed again. She was trying not to cry, and I was trying not to scream, so I put my hand on her shoulder. It was thinner than I remembered, and I hope I wasn't the cause of that.

"I'll call you when I've settled down," I whispered.

She turned for the door and walked out without a sound.

* * *

"She's here." Hallows was almost positive—once he knew someone, he could sense their energy, and Scarlett's was definitely pulsing around them. But after Bruce had berated the bespectacled nurse at the front desk, he started to lose confidence. Maybe one of the explosions had rattled his senses a little too much.

"They said she discharged hours ago. Do you know how far away she can be?" Bruce would have torn at his hair if he was in a cartoon, but as it was, he just shook with anger.

"Don't get mad," Hallows said, regretting his choice of words as Bruce glared at him. "I can feel her nearby."

"So find her."

Hallows felt a pull of anger in his chest. Bruce was either sitting quietly in a corner or bursting in a fit of rage, so to hear him speak so sharply made him afraid he would turn to the latter.

"It's not a GPS, it's a feeling—"

"So feel around! We've been looking for days, and we don't know if she's still hurt, or what she's thinking, and for all your fucking abilities we're at a dead end _again_—"

"Bruce!"

Hallows cut him off as they began to attract stares. All he needed was to be escorted out by security. A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who couldn't conduct himself in public.

"I'm sorry," Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples. He took a few deep breaths, and Hallows let out his own breath as his muscles stopped shaking.

"Excuse me?"

Oh great. Hallows turned to the woman's voice on his left. They were going to be kicked out of the hospital. Him and Bruce turned to the woman, tall and thin with bright red glasses and an ID badge that showed she worked there.

"Sorry to bother you...but did you just say Bruce?"

"Yes..."

"I know someone looking for you," she said, her mouth twisting into a frown. "Someone I owe an apology."

* * *

I peeked in Alana's room, her parents silently waving and smiling at me as she slept. Her brother gave me a big thumbs up and I grinned, giving one back before leaving the doorway. I was a little too zapped to help anyone else today, but I wanted to check up on a few people before I left.

Left where? I wasn't sure yet. But after talking to Alana about dragons, I realized I didn't just want to be the princess who stayed in the tower and waited for the knight. If Bruce could look for me, I could look for him.

I pressed the down button on the elevator and took a deep breath.

Where to begin?


	16. Chapter 16

**"When we love, we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too."**

-Paulo Coelho

* * *

As I walked around the city, I wondered if I did make up Bruce. There was so much destruction here, it was a maze just to get through the streets with all the clean ups and repairs. Maybe I'd hit my head too hard on one of the falling bricks and thought of a wild story.

But the feelings were too real. Sometimes when you wake up you feel like your dream was true, but this felt engrained in me. Like grief about Sean was etched into my unconscious, I felt the pull of Bruce like it was written on my bones.

I could feel Dylan in my head, urging me forward, telling me to not doubt myself.

Plus, my imagination wasn't vivid enough to think of everyone else. Snarky Tony. Devoted Joanna. Collected Natasha. Gentlemanly Steve, muscled Thor or sharp shooting Clint. Even Agent Hallows, with his moments of vulnerability, had become a big part of my life as of late.

And there, between a cracked-glass storefront and a charred deli, with my mind swirling of agents and aliens, I felt a thought hit me.

It had been staring me in the face the whole time, I didn't know whether to feel stupid or elated.

* * *

Bruce peered at the homeless man, which wasn't uncommon here, especially since the Loki business. Some of them, he noticed, weren't completely phased by it, but some of them were sporting injuries that they had not checked out. The one in front of him had a particularly nasty one on his face, which was turning the same color as his plaid, tattered shirt.

"You should really go to the hospital. It looks like the cut on your forehead is getting infected," he tried to say calmly with a trusting smile.

The man glared at him.

"Mind your own business, Four Eyes!"

Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. With that glum note, he started his journey back. He had been looking for Scarlett all day, and alternated between exhaustion and frustration. Agent Hallows had been called back to S.H.I.E.L.D. but promised to check in as soon as possible.

It was much harder without him. In fact, almost impossible. But it made Bruce feel better to be out and looking than to be sitting in his room and staring at the walls.

He was so preoccupied he barely noticed he was back at Stark Tower. He was recognized there now, and he silently thanked Tony for having such a convenient place for him to stay. He was probably overstaying his welcome, actually, but he didn't really care these days.

He rode the elevator up in silence, contemplating his fingernails instead of everything else around him. It was usual to see a lot of people around here since they were fixing things up, but they mostly left him alone.

All, save one.

"Mister Green has returned!"

"Hey Tony," Bruce greeted, managing a crooked smirk. It was the most he could conjure. He felt like his feet would fall off.

"No luck today?" Tony asked, fiddling with his computer and gesturing to a worker next to him. He was almost always doing something these days, but Bruce admired his ability to be in many conversations at once.

"Nope."

"Well I've kind of taken on a pet project. Bringing in strays. It really helps the self-esteem, and gives them a place to stay."

"Oh...great?" Bruce furrowed his eyebrows. That didn't sound like Tony. He thought he was kind of distracted and talking gibberish, so he started moving toward the room he was staying in.

"Yeah, so I've left one in your room."

Bruce paused. He was only a few feet from his doorknob. Tony's voice echoed from where he stood, and he turned and looked at him.

"I hope you're joking."

Tony just grinned and continued in his conversation with the woman beside him. Bruce was too tired to argue. If there was a group of cats in his room, maybe it was a push for him to leave. He didn't really care. Maybe he was at the age to hang around a bunch of cats and wait to die. Who said that was restricted to old ladies?

He braced himself and turned his doorknob. And there was someone on his room, and it was certainly not a cat.

* * *

Bruce's temporary room was nicer than my permanent house. I felt jittery all over for some reason, like I was going on a first date, even though we had kind of skipped all the normal pleasantries. For all I knew, he wasn't even going to want a relationship, but I had to try.

_"He's been crazier than usual looking for you," Tony had said with a grin. "You have to hide in his room! It will be great to see him so confused."_

I wandered around for a while, looking at the art on the walls, and finally the things in Bruce's pile of stuff. Mostly shirts, and a few books, which made me smile. His bed hardly looked slept in.

And then I heard the doorknob. I took a deep breath as I turned around.

I looked up slowly. He looked down at me. I could feel my chest aching and breathing as hard as his.

"Bruce."

I don't really remember moving, but suddenly I was only inches away. He smelled like him. I didn't really know what he smelled like until he was in front of me, and then it always hit me and it smelled like comfort and thrill and outdoors and books all at the same time, because he was so many things, and I found myself loving all of them.

"Scarlett."

I needed to kiss him. I didn't care about what would happen later, at least not now.

I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down, and put my hands on the scruff of his cheeks. He answered with fervor, to my astonishment, his hands on the small of my back, pulling me as close to him as I had ever been. I slid my hands into his hair, then down to his neck, almost convincing myself that he was real. His hands moved up the back of my shirt and I smiled into him, when I heard someone clear their throat. I slowly stopped kissing him, giving him one short peck before turning to the voice. Bruce groaned but I kept as close to him as possible, and he settled for playing with my hair.

"Hey Tony," I said, my mind dazed as my eyes focused. "Thanks for having such an ostentatious building."

"I prefer flashy, Walker. Please don't desecrate it during your reunion."

"I think you've done that enough times, Stark," Bruce called, his eyes not even turning toward him.

I looked back at Bruce, settling my hands around his neck. He smiled. His smiles since S.H.I.E.L.D. had showed up were rare, and usually laced with sarcasm or guilt. But this one was real, and I smiled back before pushing my face into his chest. He kissed the top of my head and I wrapped my arms around him.

"I'm so glad I didn't imagine you," I sighed.

"I don't know what that means," he chuckled. "But me too. I hope your dream guy would be much better than me."

"That _is _true," I said with a sarcastic grin.

"You know how to make a guy feel good," Bruce said with a grimace.

"Nobody self-deprecates you as much as you do."

"Isn't that part of my charm?" he asked.

"Well I think so. But that's probably because I think so little of myself."

"It's hard to tell if you two are joking," Tony commented, still leaning in the door. "And yes, I am still here, in case you were wondering."

"Well maybe you should leave," Bruce said, extracting a hand to gesture closing the door.

"Your babies will be beautiful geniuses with low self-esteem!" Tony called, backing from the room.

"Shut it Tony!" I called.

"Tell your daughter to call me when she's eighteen!"

Bruce kicked the door shut behind him. I started to laugh, but he was kissing me again, and this time, we were backing toward the bed.

* * *

I loved Bruce in his purple shirt, but it turned out I liked him pretty fine without it, too. I smiled in spite of myself, watching the sheet on top of him rise and fall with his breath. He looked peaceful in sleep, his hair puffed up on the pillow, his lines erased.

Sleeping with Bruce was a weird, great experience. I had to keep his emotions somewhat in check or he would start to change, but not too in check that he was too calm. Don't even get me started on what I was feeling. All I knew was that I was happy to be there, in any way, but entangled in Bruce was high on the list.

And then, after it was over, and he finally fell asleep, my worries started to trickle in. Mostly, my worries of what his worries would be.

So I prepared. I got paper and pen, and organized my thoughts, and I had been patiently waiting for him to wake up.

I waited a few more minutes before he started to stir. I sat up, the sheets falling away and leaving my arms exposed. I shivered and pulled it back over. All I had was a T-shirt, my coat long ago lost.

"Morning," Bruce said sleepily, stretching an arm over his head. Unlike me, he had no shirt at all, but I was not one to complain.

He propped himself up on an elbow and looked at me, blinking a few times.

"I have a question for you."

I swallowed. This is what I was prepared for. I reached over him and retrieved my papers from the nightstand.

"I have a few things to say," I said, straightening my spine and taking a breath. "I've gathered a few of the cheesiest speeches I could think of."

"You really took notes?"

"Don't interrupt. From this day, you are not allowed to say you're too damaged or you're a Hulk or you don't deserve me. Because it's bullshit and you're scared. You could've went anywhere. Done anything. And you chose to go a place where you could help people. You're two different people and I don't mean you and 'the other guy.' I mean you, the nice, smart, logical one who makes my chest hurt when he smiles and plays soccer with orphans. And the other you, the stupid, irrational one who feels guilty and pushes people away."

I took a deep breath, again, gathering my courage in the air.

"Life is short and you don't make all the decisions. And if I want to kiss a self-deprecating, cute, bespectacled doctor that can turn into a green beast then I will."

Bruce bit his lip, his eyes wide.

"Is that it?"

"No. I know we haven't actually known each other that long, but we can figure that out later. You may not know my favorite color, or movie, but you know who I am. Ever since I lost Sean I made rules to keep people away...and you are the exception to all of them." I paused, mirroring him and biting my lip. "Okay, I'm done."

"I'm sorry," Bruce said, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. My skin burned. "To make you think you had to convince me to be in a relationship with you. All I want to do is be with you. Maybe I was being dramatic, but I am dangerous, and you have to understand that you don't want to be responsible for putting the person you love in danger."

My heart did a cartwheel at the word love. It was just a word, and I was an adult, but from Bruce it somehow meant more...it meant a_ future_.

"We're not star-crossed, Bruce. We can make this work. You thought I was obligated to you because I'm an empath, but what if we were just supposed to be together?"

"I do hate the concept of the star-crossed lovers. I mean, Romeo killed Juliet's cousin, and they knew each other for approximately five minutes, I always thought it was stupid—really, this is why I studied science—"

I put a finger to his lips, smiling as his defenses turned into babble.

"I don't want to be a doctor anymore, but this whole situation made me realize I do want to help people. And wherever I go, there will probably be some doctor or scientist jobs, if you're interested."

"Scarlett Walker, would you like to get breakfast with me, and maybe live together after that?"

I laughed, nodding my head.

"I don't know why anybody would want to live with me, but I'm going with it," Bruce said, inching toward me.

"Well, I suspect you're very good at opening jars," I said, tapping my chin in thought.

"The best."

I leaned forward and kissed him, trying not to smile despite all my muscles crying out in happiness. A few months ago I didn't even want to think about the next day, let alone the future, and now I actually wanted to hurry it along.

Sometimes you have to put aside the self doubt. Sometimes you have to get away from the thing bogging you down.

I might feel more emotions that the average person, but it was better to feel everything than nothing at all. And sometimes, times like this, I was reminded that maybe, even just for a little, things could feel perfect.

* * *

**THE END!**

Sorry it took so long. Hope you liked the story. Hope you liked my Bruce, and Scarlett. Thank you to anyone who has ever read, and thank you x1000 to those who review! It makes writing a lot better! :)


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